


The One in Which Maggie Comes Back

by Promsie



Series: Glory Days [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Action, DCYE-Universe, F/F, Feelings, crime-fighting, still don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15525894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Promsie/pseuds/Promsie
Summary: Eight months after the events in DCYE, Maggie comes back to National City because of work. While she hunts a dangerous member of an alien gang together with the Danvers sisters, she must realize that a lot of things changed on the West Coast in one year. Especially Alex. How will they both react when they meet again for the first time after the break-up?





	The One in Which Maggie Comes Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This is the first part of a one-shot series taking place in the 'Don't close your Eyes' universe.
> 
> What you NOT need: Is reading DCYE to understand this story but it helps with the references.  
> What you DO need: Sam and Reign merged and actively share a body. This story contains both established Danvarias (Sam/Alex) and Agentreign (Reign/Alex) and established Supercorp as a background couple. Alex suffers from claustrophobia since the events in DCYE. Takes place eight months after DCYE. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supergirl, any of the alien races or the song "Time after Time"
> 
> If you want to check out the alien races, visit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_alien_races_in_DC_Comics

* * *

 

 

From the moment on when her boss asked her to accompany the overpass convoy to National City, Maggie should have _known_.

The feeling in her stomach was not entirely _bad_ but listening to her gut had saved her in more than one dicey situation over the years. Her gut raised a  hue and cry when Maggie complied after five minutes and stubbornly she pinned it on skipping breakfast. Not her body raising every flag in alarm it was capable of.  Her boss clapped his hands, visibly pleased, said that it would only be a quick in and out because first: no one wants to butt heads with the secret government organization residing in National City that was the contact point for anything alien related and second: after what happened eight months ago, people want to go there even less. It should have been a _quick_ job, an _easy_ job.

In and out. Nothing special.

But of course, nothing is ever _quick_ or _easy_ in National City.

And as much as Maggie fights to keep those thoughts at bay, when she enters her empty, cold apartment that evening, they bubble up and overcome her anyways. The memories wash over her, the second she closed the door, some _bitter_ , some _sweet_ and some _bittersweet_ and the what-ifs follow swiftly while she moves to the fridge to grab a beer. What if she had stayed in National City, what if she had tried to win her back, what if, _Dios mío_ , she would just be able to want kids. And before long, like always, her thoughts circle around Alex Danvers and nothing else.

When she first moved to Metropolis, she thought about her ex-fiancé almost every day and worked hard and steadily to replace Alex’ face with that of another woman, any other woman, preferably a new one every night. After three months, she had to admit that it didn’t work. Over the next couple of months, it got easier, the stretches of time she spent without thinking about the gorgeous redhead became longer and longer but she still pops up now and again. Their break-up  happened almost one year ago, and Maggie is convinced that Alex moved on in the meantime. To someone who can give her everything she wants, someone who wants kids or maybe already has a kid.

She tried too, you know, moving on, _of course_ she tried. But she committed the stupid mistake of comparing them all to the one woman she lost. One was too small, the next wasn’t funny enough and the third looked so much like Alex that Maggie was embarrassed by herself and left the bar before she even spoke to her. Except for one, all the women were substitutes and that wasn’t fair neither to them nor to Maggie. The one that was different from all of them was a rich heiress from Gotham City and partly due to the distance and partly some suspicious secrets their relationship didn’t last very long. Since then, she day-dreamed and night-dreamed usually about either redhead in turns. The days that hurt the most, though, surprisingly are not the _bad_ ones, it’s the _good_ ones. If she heard a joke she actually finds funny, or some criminal behaved extremely stupid or if its just something simple like sun rays breaking through a cloud ceiling, creating God rays that leave her in awe every time. In those moments, she wants to turn around and say, “Did you see that?”, but no one is there and that is what hurts the most in all honesty.

Now, with the prospect of seeing Alex again, her heart grows heavy in the tragic, melancholic way only an old love can do. Against better judgement, she hopes that she doesn’t run into the her.

It would kick up all the dust she _just_ managed to convince to settle down.

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, Maggie throws a duffle bag around her shoulders, locks the apartment, vowing that she locks away any unhealthy thoughts about a certain redhead, too.

After all this time, it is silly to assume that anything could happen between them and on the way to the precinct she is positively torn. Torn between accepting that doing _anything_ with Alex would be a catastrophe of level ten and secretly admitting that if the chance presented itself she would probably be the _last_ person to walk away from it.

She is so far in her own head that she misses most of the briefing. She catches enough, though, to know that they will take a chopper to a small DEO airport near Las Vegas where the first Agents will receive them. From then on, they will move by car in a convoy until they will reach National City in the evening if everything works as planned. Their package is an especially mean and rotten Gordanian, who quickly rose in the ranks of one of the alien gangs that sprung up all around National City in the past six months. He worked both in human and alien trafficking, always serving the race which offered more money and he is all in all _despicable_. He has been evacuated to Metropolis by his gang when things began to heat up on the West Coast and now the DEO wants him back to gain information about his instigators. The DEO warned them that they expect resistance of the gang and that an ambush on the convoy is most likely.

Simply fucking great.

At least if they are gunned down before they reach National City, Maggie will not have to see Alex. With a long, unnerved sigh, she waits in front of the chopper together with four colleagues while the first sunlight tries to fight a way for itself through the misty morning. The wind driving the clouds away,  is chilly, makes her windbreaker bloat and rustle and the more pleasant temperatures at the West Coast are something she is actually looking forward to. Although she wasn’t born in Mexico, Maggie always preferred hot summers and mild winters to rain in July and blizzards in January. She shakes the last of the chill off, tries not to get too excited about the Californian beaches she may be able to visit and climbs into the chopper last.

Of course, she gets the seat right next to the Gordanian who leers at her with unblinking, reptile eyes that give her the creeps: “You are quite pretty for a human,” he says, flicking his long tongue out to wet his thin lips, “You would make a good price on the market.”

Maggie tells him to shut up, all fiery eyes and sharp tongue because sadly she is not allowed to knock him unconscious. Shortly before they lift, her boss comes jogging onto the landing platform, yelling at them that everything will be fine because Supergirl will be in Vegas, too and she will be joined by Reign once they reached the city. The rest of his words is drowned out by the roar of the starting rotor blades.

Reign.

For the whole three-hour flight, Maggie keeps thinking about that name which is a good thing because the Gordanian simply won’t shut up and each comment becomes more degrading and if she had listened to him, she would have shoved him out of the chopper somewhere across Colorado. The name first popped up in the newspapers shortly after she left National City. However, she was so occupied with piecing her life back together that she didn’t bother much keeping up with the news. Eight months ago, though, things clearly escalated, the newspapers even in Metropolis related the evacuation and when she saw the strange pulsing sphere on her television, Maggie was struggling with calling Alex or not. In the end, she decided against it because she probably wouldn’t have reached her and what was she supposed to say anyways? And then some months after everything seemed to have settled down again in National City, the headlines came thick and fast again, each paper trying to outdo the next with their frontpage. Apparently, National City has a new hero: Reign.

Maggie had _quite_ a lot of troubles understanding how the former rogue alien became the new shooting star on the West Coast or if they even are the same person, though, she is sure that the DEO had more than one finger in _that_ pie. She followed the media coverage on Reign more or less regularly, not failing to notice the change in tone over the weeks. CatCo, _of course_ , was all about second chances, mostly highlighting the advantages two caped protectors could mean for the city whereas other, less alien-friendly, papers were appalled by the fact that _apparently_ the police force employed former murderers now. Maggie was wondering about the same thing, wondering even more how Kara, J’onn and especially Alex can turn a blind eye on the fact that the newest addition to their team is a killer. And although, Reign keeps away from the limelight way more and way more consequently than Kara, Maggie knows that the two are working together. She is a detective after all, she _detects_ such things.

When they touch ground near Las Vegas, Maggie is buzzing with nervous anticipation. She has the feeling that she missed a million things during the past year and that meeting up with the old team will result most likely in being awkward, no matter if things turn out the _best_ or the _worst_ way. Her thoughts all circle around either seeing her old friends again, around Reign or around Alex and she must muster up a lot of energy to focus back on the job at hand because the Gordanian has gone suspiciously quiet and when they all climb out of the chopper he stretches and yawns, soaking up the warm sunlight in much the same fashion as his non-alien, smaller relatives would do: “Isn’t it splendid to be back in the West?”

He looks irritatingly relaxed, standing there with his back straight and his face turned into the light, taking a sunbath. Maggie scowls because, yeah sure, she is _mostly_ happy to get out of the damp mist of Metropolis, too, but he is an asshole and she is getting more and more nervous about seeing all these people again she left so many months ago. Without answering him, she drags him roughly across the tarred, quickly heating up landing strip towards the five waiting, all-black SUVs that already scream government from the distance.

“Detective Sawyer. Good to have you here again,” one of the Agents in heavy tactical gear greets her, standing next to the middle car. Probably their driver.

Maggie isn’t sure being here is anything even remotely close to _good_. Part of her is excited because she never had as many friends as in National City and Metropolis was lonely at times not merely because she is single. The other part of her, the _stubborn_ one, the _proud_ one is anxious because she managed to leave everything related to National City more and more behind in the past weeks and months and she doesn’t want to be forced to repeat that exhausting and painful process again. She answers him with a polite nod before shoving the Gordanian into the car and climbing in last again.

Her colleagues are already seated, and it doesn’t take long before the small convoy sets into motion. While they pass endless scenes of dry desert with its occasional shrub, heading continuously towards the south-west, Maggie wonders where Kara is. She hasn’t seen her at the airport, not even a telltale blur of red and blue. She shouldn’t be _so_ surprised that she jumps slightly in the seat when Kara’s voice eventually trickles into the earpiece she received from the DEO Agent: “It is so good to have you with us today, Detective Sawyer.”

Her voice is cheerful and light, reminding her more of Kara Danvers than of Supergirl. Reminding her more of the bright, bubbly woman she met shortly after she met Alex than of the brooding broken-hearted Kara she said good-bye to roughly a year ago. She is happy for the blonde, she really is but the chances are high that if one Danvers sister moved on from her ex that the other did so, too. And Maggie knows that things between her and Alex are over in a way that is absolutely _finite_ and _irretrievable_ and that they never can go back. Still, something deep down in her _aches_ knowing that Alex moved on with someone new. It takes her a moment or two to collect herself because, _por el amor de Dios_ , Kara’s voice suddenly brings back a lot of memories, mostly good ones but the bad ones are never far behind. After she gathered her thoughts, she clears her throat, says: “It’s good to hear your voice, Supergirl,” and she means it.

Maggie missed them. Terribly. This logical, small family she became a part of and that she had to give up the moment Alex said they couldn’t be together anymore. Miraculously, she is able to swallow the nagging feeling that hasn’t left her since she talked to her boss, that constantly tells her she will regret returning to this city where everything fell apart. Maggie takes a couple of short, deep breaths, concentrates on the mission and situation at hand and tells herself that maybe, just _maybe_ her return will be _good_ and _nice_ and suddenly she is looking forward to seeing them all again. Even Alex. She holds on to that fleeting feeling desperately, fighting with herself to not be _overwhelmed_ again by any depressing thoughts. It takes so much effort that she barely notices how the world rushes past them in washed-out streaks of sandy ochre and earthy brown and sunlight so bright that it’s almost white. That is also the reason why she doesn’t notice how they finally leave the desert behind, how dusk is creeping up on the horizon and how the streets they drive through become faintly familiar and well, she doesn’t see the attack coming _at all_.

One second, everything is quiet while they drive neatly along a radial highway and the next second, someone or something shoots Kara out of the sky and then it is raining bullets down on them as harsh and steadily as if they were caught in a fierce thunderstorm. Suddenly, the cars in front of them explode and because they are on a bridge, the driver cannot swerve, and the break path is too short, and they crash into the burning wrecks almost unchecked. The Gordanian lets out maniacal, thin laughter, curls his tail around the anchorage of the bench he is chained to and braces for the impact.

“Maldita mierda!” Maggie exclaims because he _knew_ and because neither of them has anything to hold onto and next they are all jostled around violently, the world tilting and spinning.

The car somersaults headlong a couple of times which is good for them because no one goes flying out a window like that. Maggie’s head knocks heavily against the walls or the floor or someone’s knee and when the car finally comes to a halt, it’s back on four wheels and none of her colleagues seems to be dead. There is a deafening, high-pitched beeping that makes her ears ring while the world only slowly stops spinning.

The Gordanian is the only uninjured one which is totally _not_ good because when Maggie reaches for her gun with shaky fingers, he slaps it out of her hand with his thick, muscular tail. It clatters under one of the benches and she must watch helplessly how he reaches for it and shoots at the anchoring until he can free himself. There is nowhere she can flee to and suddenly he stands over her, the gun pointed straight at her head. “Now, what should I do with such a pretty little thing?”

To her horror, he lowers himself until he is sitting on top of her, pins her to the hard metal floor and she is stuck. He drags the barrel of the gun down her left cheek, flicks his tongue out again: “I really wonder who is ready to pay for you.”

She spits in his face.

His eyes glint dangerously as he wipes the saliva off: “A feisty one, I see.”

Cold fear seeps into her and the thought that he will either do something _disgusting_ with her in this soundproof car or _kills_ her right away is paralyzing. The next moment, the doors are opened with a bang:

“Rankin!” someone shouts in a deep, rough voice, “Stop playing around.”

Rankin, the Gordanian, clicks his long tongue in annoyance, looking up: “Right when it was getting interesting.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he gets up, grabs her by the collar of her bulletproof-vest and drags her out of the broken car. With a heavy thud, she lands on the floor in a circle of combat boots and various alien looking feet. Gunfire is exploding all around them and the bursts hit either the car with dull plinks or let the concrete spray up in hissing small bursts. She cannot see any back-up and her four colleagues are still out.

Por Dios, she should have just stayed in Metropolis.

Right when she is gauging her chances to roll out of the circle and make a run for it, a black blur barrels into three of her captives and someone drags her behind one of the still opened doors of the SUV.

“Getting into trouble without me, Sawyer?”

Grunting, Maggie heaves herself up against the side of the car and the next moment, time seems to slow down indefinitely. Maybe she hit her head too hard on the concrete or she has a concussion form the crash but at first it is difficult to comprehend what is happening here. There, kneeling right in front of her peering around the protective door, gun held securely in both hands, is no one else than Alex.

At first, Maggie doesn’t get that it is really her because she looks so _different_. She is not in the trademark tactical gear that she always loved so much on the redhead but in a dark, almost skintight, black suit. The gentle curls have been gone before Maggie left but now her hair is even shorter, she can see the shaved sides, the top hair that is longer and pulled back in a small ponytail that reminds her somehow of a tiny brush. That is the most obvious change, that and the suit but there is something else, something _more_. Even in this serious situation, her voice just now, sounded happy and excited and whatever Maggie expected their first meeting to be it was definitely not like _this_ , not with Alex being like _this_.

“Cat got your tongue?” Alex asks, head turned towards her, eyes sparkling, a blinding smile in her face.

“A…Alex?”

“Oh my, did you hit your head? Are you ok?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing in concern and Maggie’s breath hitches because it is the same damn _soft_ look she has seen so many times on Alex’ face.

The one that probably melts every women’s heart and turns their knees to jelly. She nods numbly, still trying to gather her thoughts, to kick her brain back into motion. A sudden round of bullets makes them both press tighter behind the door.

“Can you tell me who is responsible for this?” Alex says through gritted teeth while they wait for the re-load.

Finally, Maggie is able to speak again: “Haven’t seen their faces but five or six of his gang buddies got Rankin out.”

“Assholes!” Alex shouts as she leans around the door and fires a couple of answering shots.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie sees a dark, big figure with an even bigger gun nearing them from the left, from the side that is not shielded by the damaged door.

“Alex! Watch out!” Maggie shouts but the redhead is too focused on shooting and Maggie has no gun and, mierda, the guy pulls the trigger.

She squeezes her eyes shut, tenses her body, prepares for the pain but to her surprise nothing happens. She hears rustling instead and when she opens her eyes, she can barely see a thing. Someone has a hand pressed against the side of the car right next to her left ear, holding the end of a black cloak, the other arm is tightly curled around Alex, shielding them both from the oncoming bullets.

“Reign!” Alex exclaims happily.

Maggie sends her a bewildered glance not believing her ears because, for heaven’s sake, they are being shot at.

“Time you showed up,” she says, not an ounce caring about the fact that someone is trying to kill them.

The bullets bounce off the cloak as if they were nothing more than pebbles. The figure, who is apparently National City’s newest superhero, curls her arm tighter around the redhead at which Maggie narrows her eyes, at the _intimacy_ of the gesture and  Reign says in a strange distorted voice: “You better watch out the next time.”

Then she turns her head to look at Maggie and a cold shiver runs down the Latina’s back. Reign wears a wide cloak, her head is surrounded by a similar wide hood but although she stares her straight in the face, Maggie cannot see anything. There is no _face_ she can look back at, just a pair of dark, red eyes, staring at her so intently out of a sea of black that it is giving her the creeps.

“I will. Don’t worry,” Alex answers lightheartedly.

Reign sends her a glance that says that she will worry nonetheless.

“Don’t get hurt,” the hero says in a warning voice before she pushes off the car so fast that it sways lightly on two wheels then she is crashing fist first in the guy who didn’t stop shooting at them.

Maggie stares in awe at how Reign swiftly knocks the guy out and uses his limp body to checkmate a handful of other gang members. She is gone just as fast as she came and, por Dios, she must be faster than Kara. Something Maggie didn’t believe was even possible. Next, Alex grabs a gun from a holster around her right thigh and shoves it in her hands: “Come on. Can’t miss out on the fun.”

Before she has any chance to protest, Alex rounds the door as is gone, too. Briefly and bewildered Maggie shakes her head before she follows her ex. It should be surprising how good they still work together while they take down one guy after the other, then again, they always made a good team. Even before they became a couple. Kara and Reign handle some of the bigger, clearly alien kind of gang members a little further away while the two of them work their way through the humans. Other DEO Agents support them and eventually they can leave the burning wreckages behind and advance on the rest of the bridge. Two SUVs, not belonging to the DEO, block the street a little further ahead, but thankfully there are only four guys and Rankin standing next to the railing. When the Gordanian spots them, he orders his buddies to hold them off and Alex and Maggie are lucky that they can take two of them out immediately before they have to roll out of the way.

“Ciao bella,” Rankin shouts at Maggie, winks and jumps off the bridge.

“Asshole!” Alex shouts again before she takes one of the remaining guys out by shooting him in the right thigh while Maggie hits the last one in the shoulder.

As fast as they can, they run to the spot where Rankin jumped but they can do nothing from this height, can only watch how more gang members fish him out of the water onto a small boat. He is cackling at their tight expressions before the boat takes off.

“Ah, shit!” Alex curses. Then she taps her earpiece hectically. “Reign? Supergirl? Rankin ditched us and takes off on the water.”

The next moment, Maggie sees how Kara and Reign take up pursuit. “Well,” Alex sighs as they stare after the heroic duo, “That didn’t go as planned.”

Maggie pushes hair out of her face, puts the safety click on, thinking that this didn’t go _at all_ as planned.

.

They help the remaining Agents, who didn’t get hit, arrest all the gang members that went down, survey how the wrecked cars of the convoy are transported and finally fall exhausted into the seats of an unmarked, civilian Ford Crown Victoria.

They only talked business while they worked and the ride to the DEO is mostly silent, too. Maggie wants to tag along, partly because she wants to check on her injured but thankfully alive colleagues from Metropolis, partly because she wants to see the old team and partly because she cannot shake the feeling off that she saw something pass between Reign and Alex that she wasn’t meant to see. The glance that the hero sent her way makes her even more suspicious.

Could it be that Alex got herself a freshly baked super-heroine as a new girlfriend? She hides the scowl on her face by propping her arm up on the passenger window, hiding her chin in the palm of her hand. It is not that she is _jealous_ , there is no reason to be anymore because _they_ are history, though, it is unsettling in a way she cannot turn off that a super-heroine of all people replaced her. As they enter the parking lot, which is below ground, Maggie picks up on the unfamiliarity of the place.

“Did you renovate?” she asks while they take the elevator to the higher floors.

“Oh, you don’t know,” Alex says, tone swinging between _question_ and _statement_.

Something settles around her hazel eyes, something that Maggie cannot quite place, it’s _sad_ and _nostalgic_ and heavens, how much did she really miss.

“I’m sure even in Metropolis they talked about what went down here during the beginning of the year,” she says in a thick voice.

Maggie nods.

Alex takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand up and down her left arm: “You’re right, err-“ the rubbing intensifies, “One of the three Worldkillers destroyed the left DEO tower. It had to be rebuild from scratch.”

Briefly, she considers asking if one of those three is Alex’ new girlfriend. And although she is always the one to clearly express what is on her mind, she remains silent because it neither seems to be the right place nor time. _Maybe_ she doesn’t even want to hear the answer. Maggie takes a look around as they step out of the elevator and, yeah, she sees it. Even after eight months most surfaces are still shining and although the building looks mostly like she remembers, there are some subtle changes here and there and more obvious in other places. In the first tower she knew, finding the toilets was like finding the center of a corn maze. Now, they are located right next to the elevators. Alex leads her to the med bay and after Maggie made sure that her colleagues are taken care of well and that their families will be contacted, the two stand awkwardly in the hall.

A hundred questions burn on the tip of her tongue, rattle behind her teeth. Even though they once were so close that they shared everything with each other, every unrealistic dream and every deeply rooted fear, all the questions seem too intimate right now. Like she lost the right to ask them somewhere along the way. Frankly, Maggie still is coming to terms with how _good_ Alex is doing, with how _happy_ she is because she may still be the tough Agent no one dares to underestimate but Maggie _knows_ her, still knows her although she changed so much, and she is _glowing_ and once Maggie has been the person who was able to make Alex shine and glow from the inside. She wants to know who took her place.

“So,” Alex begins, awkwardly locking her hands behind her back, “Where are you staying?”

Maggie leans against the wall, shoves her hands in the pockets of the windbreaker, fighting to silence the ache in her chest at the fact that after all this time they are stuck with meaningless small-talk: “Hotel. Not far from here.”

Then she crosses her arms in front of her chest because, carajo, she  is nervous, and this is uncomfortable, “Guess I’m the only one staying there tonight.”

And then Alex is giving her _that_ look, that soft, imploring, reassuring look, she once loved so much and that is not her privilege anymore: “How are you?”

 _How_ is she supposed to answer that? _What_ is she supposed to answer when she isn’t even sure herself? Seeing Alex again stirs up a multitude of feelings she worked hard on to bury, seeing how seemingly _easy_ it is for her ex to meet again is breaking her heart in a way she cannot describe and yet she feels filled with  the strangest kind of sad happiness to be back. She wants to know what Alex’ life is like now without her, if she is actually as happy as she looks, if Reign or someone else is actually her girlfriend and she will not let that be threatened by old feelings that will lead nowhere anymore anyways. She wants to know how the others are doing, too. How Kara handled her heartbreak over Mon-El, how Winn is doing, who became something like a little brother to her and how J’onn is doing, who she came to see as the father she wished she would have had and even how Lena Luthor is.

And somewhere far, far in the back of her mind there is a fifth name flickering to life, the name of someone she only met _once_ but someone who made a lasting impression nonetheless because even though Alex was sitting right next to her that evening, she was staring at Samantha Arias with warm cheeks while she was biting her lip nervously. Maggie is a detective after all, she _detects_ such things. At that time, though, Alex’ behavior carried no weight for her.

Before she can answer, a black shadow wraps itself around Alex like smoke. Arms settle around her waist and a hood appears next to her face. Reign appears out of nowhere as if she just performed a magic trick.

“We need to talk, Alexandra.”

Maggie’s eyebrows shoot up so high in surprise that they would vanish in her hairline if her hair wouldn’t be tucked neatly behind her ears. No one _ever_ calls Alex like that. Except her mother. And Alex absolutely _hates_ it. Or she used to at least because now her cheeks are turning pink while her hands alternate between prying the hero off and holding onto her.

“Reign, I’m having a conversation right now,” she says or rather stutters only a little bit indignant and whether they are already sleeping together or more or not, Alex has it _bad_.

This time, Maggie braces for the piercing eyes, stands straighter, tightens her face and looks back just as intently.

“Then stop having a conversation,” Reign says, and Maggie presses her lips together because, ok _rude_.

To her uttermost surprise, Alex doesn’t tell her off, even sinks a little further into the embrace and although Maggie cannot see it because of the hood, she senses that Reign wears a smug, proud grin. The next moment, she begins to drag Alex away and the redhead lets it happen without any protest, gives her a little wave and an apologetic glance, saying: “Sorry, Sawyer. See you around.”

Mouth agape, Maggie stares after them until they vanish behind the next corner. Looks like Alex has it even _worse_ than she thought. Rolling her eyes at her own curiosity, Maggie pushes off the wall and follows the pair. She has a pretty good idea what the hero and the Agent are up to now, she still can remember a time when it was _her_ instead of Reign who let Alex into empty labs, but she must see it with her own eyes. Because if she _knows_ then maybe she can finally shake the very last of her lingering feelings off. She is dead set on trying to be _friends_ with Alex because anything more would be kind of _ridiculous_ at this point but, por el amor de Cristo, she must finally get _over_ Alex before that can happen. Maggie doesn’t even need to see the two to follow them because they bicker on the whole way through hall after hall and around corner after corner.

“That was rude, Reign.” Alex chastises, but the hero only grumbles in response.

“You cannot simply whisk me away every time I am talking to someone.”

“Oh, but I can. Right?” Reign answers and Maggie can hear the cheeky grin in her voice even from fifty feet behind them.

“You are totally undermining my reputation. That is not ok,” Alex continues in huffs and puffs, though, her anger is missing its fire, makes Maggie wonder how often they argue like this.

“Your reputation?” Reign teases, “You mean how you are very soft and sweet on the inside?”

Alex groans, almost whines, says: “My _work_ reputation!”

Next, Maggie hears a low laugh, a door opening and closing and then silence.

She fastens her steps, but it is too late and the two could be in any of the labs, lined up left and right of the deserted corridor. Then she spots how the closed blinds in one of the rooms on her right move the tiniest bit, but it is enough. Quietly, Maggie sneaks up to the closed door, which is thin enough, so that she can hear their voices: “Why so eager, babe?”

Well, _obviously_ this is not a one-time thing between Alex and Reign. The redhead was never someone to be overly affectionate or handing out nicknames left and right and Maggie wonders, her forehead resting against the door, when that changed.

“That woman from the bridge and just now,” Reign begins hesitantly, “That is your former mate, Margaret Sawyer.”

Maggie stiffens instantly because, que demonios, no one says _mate,_ and no one usually dares to call her _Margaret._ She is close to kicking the door in, to give that rude, arrogant puta a piece of her mind but Alex is faster than her: “Yes, she is but please never call her like that.”

“But it is her name,” Reign says clearly lacking understanding.

Outside, Maggie leans her head back in annoyance, lets it roll to the side and spots that one of the blinds in the lab’s window is missing. Carefully, she steps closer until she can peer into the small room. Alex is sitting on one of the tables, her legs spread wide to make room for Reign, who is standing in between them. Reign is still in full costume and Maggie can barely see anything more than her cloak and Alex’ knees that rest on either side of the hero’s hips.

“Please, Reign. Don’t call her like that,” Alex says softly, taking the woman’s face in her hands.

“Why do you still care?” Reign rumbles in mild annoyance, though, she makes no move to retreat.

Maggie’s heart beats heavy like a drum on the other side of the window because, yeah, she would like to know that, too. Alex’ voice becomes even smaller and Maggie has trouble understanding her, though with her ear pressed against the glass it is just enough to make the words out: “Maggie will always be important to me. You know that.”

Instead of saying something in return, Reign steps even closer, wraps her arms around Alex’ waist, holding her tight.

“Are you jealous?” Alex asks sweetly with no hint of anger or teasing.

She is rubbing a hand up and down the hero’s back in broad, gentle strokes while Reign shrugs. “You don’t have to be. I belong only to you, babe.”

Maggie lets out a long sigh, officially accepting that being friends with the redhead is the closest they will probably ever be again and to her surprise it is _ok_. Then she grimaces because Alex chuckles, adding, “Well, _almost_ only. But you know what I mean.”

Maggie stares at them completely bewildered. Almost? What is that supposed to mean? Are Alex and Reign only having an affair? Is there another person in the redhead’s life, Maggie missed? And, God forbid, is Alex cheating on someone? She shakes her head violently. No, no, no. Alex is _not_ a cheater, never _has_ been and never _will_ be.

Instead of reacting to what Alex said, Reign huffs: “Pshaw! I am an almighty Worldkiller. I do _not_ get jealous.”

Maggie’s head is spinning because instead of finding answers to the question how Alex is doing and what her life is like now, she is stumbling over question after question. So, Reign indeed is one of the Worldkillers and the identical name of the hero and the killer is not a coincidence. That would have been too stupid to be true anyways. She cannot wrap her head around the fact, though, that Alex is planting kisses right now on a _murderer_. She is even laughing, light and tingling, leaving Maggie at a loss for words.

“ _Of course_ , you are. And _of course_ , you don’t.”

“Are you mocking me, Alexandra?” Reign asks in a playfully dangerous tone.

Maggie facepalms because, carajo, Alex is giggling. Giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s unbelievable.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she says, the irony so heavy that even a deaf person would hear it. “And now come here,” Alex adds, her voice suddenly having dropped low, becoming rough and husky and Maggie cannot help the goosebumps erupting on her skin when she sees them kiss.

She doesn’t really see much and doesn’t really hear much either, but it is enough to make out how Alex’ hands bury deep in Reign’s cloak and how their breathing becomes heavy, turning into panting not before long. And when Alex eventually slips the hood from her lover’s head, leans her head back to give the hero access to wherever she wants to reach and moans: “Reign,” well then it is _definitely_ time for Maggie to leave. Strangely enough, having witnessed how her ex-fiancé makes out with another woman worried her way less than that the whole scene was utterly _confusing_.

So confusing in fact that Maggie stumbles through the many halls and corridors as if in trance until she runs into J’onn who saves her from being lost.

.

[What Maggie doesn’t hear and see anymore is how Reign reaches for the barely visible zipper at the front of Alex’ suit, gently tugging it down.

“What does jealousy feel like?” she asks in a low voice as she pushes the suit down until it pools around Alex’ waist.

“You have me half naked in an empty lab and that is what you wanna talk about?” she asks, a small smile playing around her lips because the Worldkiller _always_ comes up with questions like this in the most _impossible_ moments.

But when Reign looks at her with wide, round eyes while Alex pulls the scrunchie out of her hair, running her hands through the short, hazelnut tresses, she gives in nonetheless. She presses light kisses against Reign’s jaw, whispering: “You remember how Lena kissed me when we were working on the correct dose for the bracelets?”

Reign’s face grows dark instantly, her grip around the Agent tightening possessively, eyes darting swiftly to the silver bands around her wrists: “As if I could ever forget that.”

Alex’ mouth inches closer to the Worldkiller’s lips, landing first on her chin, then on her cheek: “You were scared and hurt and angry.” She scratches her nails across Reign’s scalp and the Worldkiller lets out a content hum, “That is jealousy,” she says, “It’s one of the ugliest feelings in the world.”

Reign nods before pressing her mouth on Alex’ lips, “I hate it.”

The Worldkiller’s hands wander up Alex’ sides, slip under the hem of her sports-bra, prompting the Agent to arch her chest further into Reign’s muscular body, to push her pelvis forward until it is pressed against Reign’s crotch.

“Seeing Maggie is not as easy as it may look like for me,” Alex mumbles, her eyes closed because, dear God, Reign is doing _that_ with her teeth and tongue and lips just under her right ear that always gets her worked up, “But I love you. And Sam.” She struggles to keep her eyes open as Reign palms one of her breasts under the bra, but she wants to look at her girlfriend when she says this, “And Maggie’s return doesn’t change anything about that.”

“Good,” Reign says resolutely, her eyes blown with desire. Then she crashes their lips back together in a searing, hot kiss.]

.

Maggie doesn’t stay much longer at the DEO.

She is sure that she cannot look Alex in the eyes after what she just witnessed. After J’onn found her, he leads her to the room with the war table, where she runs into Kara, finally in person, and Winn. The four of them chat for a while, telling each other how good it is to meet again, how much they missed each other but it doesn’t take long until they run out of pleasantries and after the exhausting, disappointing day neither of them feels like prolonging the conversation to eventually let it slip into uncomfortableness.

J’onn tells her that they will meet the following morning to discuss the further course of action regarding Rankin and before she knows it, Maggie is on her way to the hotel in a taxi. She has more than a little trouble falling asleep, the image of Alex and Reign kissing in that lab not stopping to flash in front of her inner eye. After she tossed and turned for what felt like hours, Maggie makes the decision to find out how exactly it was possible for her ex to fall in love with a former Worldkiller.  Because it doesn’t _hurt_ , to her own surprise, but before she must return to Metropolis, she wants to make sure that Alex is not in love with an illusion, that she is in good hands.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Maggie is determined to have a talk with Alex.

When she comes out of the shower, she notices a text from Kara, telling her in which conference room they will meet and after a short, unhealthy breakfast from one of the food trucks in front of the hotel, she is on her way. During the ride, she wonders why Kara contacted her and not Alex, leading her to the conclusion that maybe the redhead deleted her number.

She spots the sisters immediately, as she enters the conference room, standing next to a window and drinking coffee. The redhead holds a second mug in hand that she hands over to Maggie, who accepts with a tense smile. She spotted the colorful lovebite under Alex’ right ear, too. While they wait for the others to arrive, she notices that Reign isn’t there yet either and asks: “Where is your newest addition to the team?”

“She’s at work,” Alex answers promptly before taking a long sip of coffee and at the panicked gaze Kara sends her sister, Maggie furrows her brows.

“At work?”

And just like that, she is back to being confused because isn’t _this_ supposed to be Reign’s work or does the former Worldkiller have a civilian alter-ego just like Kara. Alex briefly chokes on the coffee when she finally notices Kara’s intense stare, answering after she cleared her throat, “Yeah, work.”

She nervously fiddles with the mug then adds: “She only helps out now and again, you know.”

Years of being a police detective make it easy for the Latina to understand that this is barely half the story, but she cannot get out more than, “Half-time superhero? Must be pretty chill,” before J’onn enters the room, followed by a couple of other Agents and a few of Maggie’s colleagues from Metropolis.

The plan of action is neither sophisticated nor complicated because Supergirl and Reign lost Rankin before he could lead them anywhere. In exchange for the Gordanian, they have twelve members of the Expatriates in custody and if they cannot get out anything about Rankin’s whereabouts out of any of them, well then, they’ll be damned. Usually, it is not Alex’ job or Maggie’s to conduct interrogations but this case is important, the gangs growing bigger and more dangerous with each passing week, getting more and more in conflict with the human gangs that already exist in National City. If they cannot get the situation under control soon, the DEO will have a war in the streets on its hands. They are in dire need of results and while Kara tries to gain any new information in the backstreets and underground, Alex and Maggie play _bad_ cop and _worst_ cop with one gang member after the other.

After six hours, Maggie’s back hurts and she is tired of continuously running against a wall of silence. The aliens they have in custody didn’t say anything at all, no matter how much Alex threatened to throw them in the darkest, most forgotten cell and the humans mostly babbled some outlandish moonshine they can’t do anything with. What they gathered from that is that the hierarchy inside the Expatriates is clearly distinguished: Humans don’t get to say shit and the higher ranks are all in the hands of one alien or another. Three gang members are left on their list when Alex and Maggie take a well-deserved break in the early afternoon.

The redhead suspiciously kept checking her phone for the past ten minutes and once they are out of the interrogation room, Maggie asks innocently: “You wanna grab a bite somewhere? I’m starving.”

Apart from that, she really, really wants to talk.

Alex shakes her head, though: “I would like to,” she says at which Maggie tilts her head, raises her eyebrows then she adds, “I mean it. I think there is a lot we should talk about, but I can’t. I have an appointment.”

Somehow, it bothers Maggie that her ex seemingly evades her again and this time she doesn’t hide her irritation: “An appointment? Is that what you call making out in empty labs today?”

Her tone is cutting, and she knows she kind of overstepped a line here. She couldn’t help herself. It takes quite an effort to not flinch under Alex’ withering glare. Ok, she deserves that one.

“That is actually none of your business but I’m going to therapy.”

All at once, the irritation and slight anger fall off of her as she hurriedly tries to limit the damage, “Alex, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

But Alex cuts her off, says with grinding teeth and flaring nostrils: “See you tomorrow, Sawyer.” Then she turns on her heel and leaves.

“Mierda,” Maggie curses, pushing a hand through her long hair in frustration.

.

[What Maggie doesn’t know is that all four members of the Arias-Danvers family have been in therapy for six months.

Alex goes to get a grip on both her claustrophobia and to not develop a serious drinking problem. Reign obviously _doesn’t_ go out of her own free will but because Sam goes to process that she is not responsible for the Worldkiller’s murder count and how to maintain a healthy distinction between her own consciousness and that of Reign and well, because of _that_ Reign has to go, too. Which may not be the worst thing because Alex and Sam can only teach her so much about responsibility and what it truly means that she has _killed_ people after all. Not even all the amount of _good_ she has been doing since then can compensate for that. And Ruby voluntarily goes because in the end she is only a child and had to witness the literal doomsday and how one of her mothers had been carried half-dead into the DEO by her other mother who had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The fight with Purity and Pestilence in the beginning of the year left scars on all of them, scars that are still healing and that will not simply fade and vanish over time. What Maggie doesn’t know either is that Ruby’s and Alex’ appointments are always scheduled for the same time and Sam’s is right afterwards. That way, Sam can drop her daughter off and Alex takes her home after each session. That way, the adults always have a limited timeframe of ten minutes during which they can meet in front of the doctor’s office to exchange car keys and some kisses and maybe share a coffee in the middle of otherwise hectic days.

The office is not far from the DEO because many Agents are directed there after a traumatic experience and all the psychiatrists and psychotherapists working in the appealing, orange brick building are well-informed about the many _peculiar_ events at the government organization. When Alex reaches the office, Sam is already waiting in front of it, two paper cups of steaming coffee in hand. She greets her with a peck on the lips: “Hey, baby.”

Sam smiles at her, answers with a little, “Hey,” of her own, handing her one of the cups.

They sit down on a bench in a small plaza close to the office with a tree and some flowerbeds in the middle.

“Where is Ruby?” Alex asks before taking the first sip of coffee, promptly burning her tongue.

“Already upstairs. She is currently in the phase again where she thinks we’re gross,” Sam answers, laughing slightly.

“Gross?” Alex asks in mock shock, “Us? That’s impossible.”

Sam leans in to plant a firm kiss on her cheek totally supporting her daughter’s view on them, “Totally gross.”

Then Alex falls silent because she remembers how she left Maggie at the DEO. She lets out a long sigh because telling her ex that she is going to therapy _definitely_ wasn’t her plan today.

“You ok?” Sam says, staring at her over the rim of her cup with soft amber eyes.

Alex shrugs, “Yeah,” then shakes her head, “No, not really.”

“Wanna tell me?”

Alex tilts her head to the side, grinning playfully at her girlfriend: “You sound just like the doc.”

Sam slaps her knee equally playful with her free hand, “Oh, come on.”

The smile fades from the Agent’s face, she leans her head back, letting out a long groan: “It’s about Maggie.”

The next second, the hand holding Sam’s coffee jerks and she is just fast enough, so that the hot liquid only spills on her fingers and a bracelet not the expensive business pants: “Jesus, Reign. Calm down,” Sam scolds her twin softly while Alex reaches into the brunette’s bag to search for some tissues.

While Sam dabs her hand dry, the redhead asks, “Is she alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Each of Alex’ girlfriends handles the sudden return of Maggie quite differently. Sam is relaxed and trusting and said that everything is alright as long as she doesn’t have to invite the Latina over for dinner whereas Reign is restless, battling her jealousy and threatened to punch Maggie into space if she gets too close to Alex.

“So?” Sam says looking at her expectantly.

Alex grumbles a bit before she says eventually, “Apparently she saw me with Reign yesterday and today she asked if my appointment really means that I would sneak off with Reign again. Then I told her where I’m really going.”

The brunette hums a bit then says: “That is the third time that you have been caught.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Alex begins to defend herself, cheeks dusted pastel-pink, “If I remember correctly _we_ got caught the first time because of _you_.” Sam holds up her hands in appeasement an easy grin on her face spread wide from cheek to cheek.

“In my defense no one warned me how absolutely _stunning_ you look in a sports-bra and running shorts.”

They burst in a small fit of laughter at that particular memory then Sam wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder to kiss her temple.

“Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“I know,” Alex responds, “She’ll probably apologize tomorrow.”

Randomly, Sam looks at her wristwatch and they must split their little meeting up. Alex checks that no one is looking before giving Sam a _deep_ kiss making promises for later in the day and eventually makes her way to the session.]

 

* * *

 

The next day, Maggie gets up extra early, buys two extra large coffees in the coffee shop across the street of the DEO and waits half an hour for Alex in the parking lot.

She wants to apologize for what she said, doesn’t want to do it in front of everyone, though. The morning is chilly even in National City and when Alex finally climbs down from her Ducati, clad in her typical set of dark leather jacket and darker pants, the coffee is mostly cold. As she fixes her hair, she spots Maggie, her expression growing tight before she even has the chance to open her mouth. With the helmet tucked under an arm and her brows drawn tight, Alex crosses the distance between them, making her heart race with each step she comes nearer.

The thing is, Maggie _hates_ apologizing because she hates being wrong about something in the first place but if she wants to patch her relationship with her ex or maybe even have a relationship again then she has to endure this. She holds the paper cup out towards Alex, saying nervously: “Here. For you.”

Wordlessly, she takes the cup and a sip, instantly crunching her face up at the taste: “Lukewarm coffee? That’s how you apologize? Really?”

Maggie cringes at her tone, is fast to properly apologize: “I’ve been waiting here for half an hour. It got cold.” Damn, that came out wrong. Briefly she squeezes her eyes shut, lets out a short breath and starts again: “Look, I’m sorry.”

Alex stares at her expectantly, quietly drinking more of the coffee, although it must taste awful.

“I’m really sorry for what I said yesterday. That was out of line and whatever kind of relationship you have with Reign, it’s none of my business.”

Alex does this thing when she purses her lips and rolls her eyes a bit until she stares at some point high up to her left with furrowed brows. Maggie always thought she does it when she tries to hide emotions but those were all over the place the times she can remember.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” Maggie asks surprised. That was easier than expected.

Alex shrugs, “Yeah, apology accepted. I know how hard they are for you.”

Then the redhead sidesteps her to reach the elevators. Maggie lets out a long sigh, counts herself lucky and follows Alex. During the ride up, Alex stares at the blinking numbers indicating the story: “I have some time tonight. You up for that talk?”

Maggie studies her sharp profile silently wondering what kind of arrangements had to be made so that her ex has a free evening, which people had to be put off or was it just a bottle of Scotch? Was Reign waiting for Alex to come home to, normally, or another woman, or no one? Hopefully, she can find answers to these questions tonight.

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”

She turns her head, a small, genuine smile on her face, the one that once made butterflies on speed erupt in Maggie’s stomach. Now, it is a less intense warmth settling behind her navel, something that feels way less like _being in love_ , more like _love_ in a non-romantic way. Because no matter what, Alex Danvers will always have a special place in her heart.

“The alien bar? For old time’s sake?”

“Sounds good, Danvers.”

They tip away the rest of their cold coffee in the sink in the ready room and prepare a new round when Maggie cannot hold it in any longer and asks: “So, you and Reign?”

Alex’ movements at the coffee machine come to a rapid halt and she is blushing hard: “Didn’t we _just_ establish that it is none of your business?”

“You can’t blame me for being curious. New mysterious super-heroine turns up and you’re all touchy feely with her?” Maggie leans her back against the counter, shoving Alex slightly who only blushes deeper, “Of course, I wanna know what’s going on.”

Somehow, this feels really, _really_ good. Being able to joke and laugh with Alex like this. Like old times. Deep inside her, Maggie feels a kind of gratefulness about this she cannot comprehend.

“Patience, Sawyer. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

And with that, the topic is taken care of and they slip back into their roles as Agent and Detective. On the way to the war room, Alex asks: “Did you have any luck with the remaining Expatriates yesterday?”

Because Maggie is a good detective, she has indeed. The very last of them, the last of _twelve_ , was a skinny boy barely old enough to drink, named Lorenzo White. As she opens his record containing the record of interrogation and a mugshot, Alex lets out a low whistle: “Damn that dude really does credit to his surname.”

Maggie laughs because, yeah, she thought exactly the same thing. Lorenzo White is the _whitest_ person she has ever seen, paler than Alex, and not even the numerous, disastrously bad inked, tattoos can cover the pallor up. They make it worse in her opinion, making him look like a Dalmatian. His knees bounce nervously before they start to give him the third degree, before Alex sits down, shaking her head: “Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lorenzo. Attempted burglary. Attempted fraud. Attempting to avoid arrest. Scandalization. Insulting an official. You must be the dumbest Expatriate I ever sat across from.”

He tries to play it cool, just like he did yesterday, leans his back against the chair, slouched down and legs spread wide apart in the most horrible case of man-spread Maggie ever witnessed: “Eh, pretty lady. You can’t talk to me like that.”

In less than an hour, the _pretty lady_ has him talking like a fountain.

He gives them the address of an abandoned depot far out in the east of National City so fast that he stumbles over his words after they threatened to sell him out as a snitch to his gang. Pleased with themselves, Alex and Maggie tell J’onn the good news and organize surveillance for the whole compound. Together with Kara they check out the scene not much later, but they come up empty handed. The depot is as abandoned as expected and Maggie swears if nothing happens in the course of the next three days, she will grill White again. Kara takes off in a blur of red and blue, excitedly gushing about a science fair she will go to with Lena, shortly afterwards.

Maggie takes Alex back to the city center in a Ford Crown Victoria the DEO allotted to her for the duration of her stay at the West Coast.

“Can’t believe they are going to a science fair as a date. These nerds,” Alex laughs on the way back.

Maggie whips her head towards her, exclaims incredulously: “They are dating?!”

For a second, Alex stares equally disbelievingly back then she breaks out in deep laughter: “Oh, of course, you don’t know.”

Maggie wonders what _else_ she doesn’t know.

“They finally got it together around eight months ago.”

“Took them long enough,” she says, shaking her head. She thinks that the impending end of the world probably gives you the strength to confess feelings everyone else knew of for months. “Don’t laugh at them,” she adds, “You love science fairs. You are just jealous.”

At that, the redhead laughs again: “Yeah. Maybe.”

The two say good-bye in front of the DEO, arranging to meet at eight in the alien bar and Maggie is just about to turn the engine on again when something vibrates on the passenger seat.

Alex forgot her phone.

Maggie reaches for it without thinking, half-way rolling down the window to shout after her when she notices what is on the screen. Frozen in shock, she stares at the light-up picture on Alex’ phone.

Samantha Arias smiles at her bright and blinding, one arm wrapped around Alex who kisses her cheek and one around a teenage girl who is making a funny face. The girl must be Arias’ daughter, Ruby.

Thunderstruck, Maggie continues to stare at the picture unable to make anything of it. This looks painfully much like Alex got herself the family Maggie couldn’t give her in the course of one, _fucking_ , year. In the next moment, she realizes two things. First, that she kind of should have seen it coming because now that she remembers the encounters between Alex and Arias she witnessed when she was still together with the redhead, she also remembers how nervous and flustered Alex was around the tall brunette even back then. The red cheeks, the downcast eyes, the lip-biting. Classic courtship behavior. It didn’t carry any weight for her at that time. Maybe it _should_ have because she is a detective. She _should_ have detected this. But she was floating on cloud nine, ready to get married, naively being in denial about anything that could threaten her happiness.

She knows Alex would have _never_ done anything, but _this_ stings nonetheless. More than the fact that her ex moved on at all it _hurts_ that she moved on with the sweet, intelligent, mother with the body of a goddess of all people. So much for wanting to be _friends_ , right now she wants to shove the stupid phone up a certain part of the redhead’s body where the sun doesn’t shine. The second thing she realizes is that either Alex is cheating on Reign or Arias which is _completely_ out of the question or that Arias _is_ Reign which seems to be almost as unlikely.

Suddenly, she is ripped out of her stupor by Alex’ voice, reaching her through the half-opened window: “Hey, Maggie. Wait up. I forgot my phone.”

Hastily, Maggie pushes the button to turn the screen dark, rolls the window down completely, trying to keep a stiff upper lip.

“Here you go,” she says numbly, handing the phone over through the window.

“Thanks. See you later,” Alex says happily, eyes sparkling and the next moment she is gone.

Por Dios, tonight Maggie will get answers.

.

She already downed half of her beer when Alex shows up.

She used the waiting time to check out the alien bar, which didn’t change at all over the past year. It is still dingy, still woozy and filled mostly with aliens looking for a good time and the occasional human. At least _something_ remained the same in her absence. Alex spots her immediately and together they move to one of the small, crooked tables further in the back, both with drinks in hand. Apart from walking down memory lane, Maggie struggled with her curiosity and impatience while she waited. From what she gathered so far, Alex’ life looks like a big, fucking mess from the outside, contrasting heavily with her cheerful demeanor. In Maggie’s opinion, her ex either lost her mind or she is missing some crucial key information. She doesn’t want to waste any time with small talk, the urge to finally get to the bottom of things is too strong and as soon as Alex sat down and shrugged out of her leather jacket, she clears her throat: “I know this might come out of the blue, but I need to ask you something and I hope you answer truthfully.”

Alex stares at her with raised eyebrows: “Whoa. Coming straight to the point.”

Maggie doesn’t defer to that, says instead with a determined voice and a serious expression: “Is Samantha Arias Reign?”

Alex chokes so heavily on her beer that it spurts out of her nose and runs down her chin. Maggie hands her some napkins. It takes her a couple of moments to wipe everything off, stop the coughing and being able to talk again: “That is quite the question to ask after one year of radio silence.”

Maggie leans back in the chair, crosses her arms in front of her chest defiantly: “Can you answer it?”

She gives her a long, hard look, eventually shaking her head: “I’m afraid I can’t.”

She juts her chin out: “Why not?”

Alex’ expression grows dark and stormy and Maggie cannot believe that they are on the verge of an argument _again._ “I cannot simply go around blabbing secret identities to anyone who’s asking,” she hisses, leaning her torso forward across the table.

Maggie’s right eyebrow twitches in annoyance, she leans in too, says in a low, heated voice: “Fair enough but then tell me something else. Which of them are you dating? Arias or Reign? Or did you turn into a cheating, lying bitch which, I really, really can’t believe.”

Apparently, Alex cannot believe what she just _heard_ because her head jerks up, the grip on her beer tightens noticeably and her gaze is as fiery as Kara’s heat-gaze: “You really think I’m a _cheater_?”

Her tone is so, _so_ offended that Maggie almost feels sorry for accusing her. She shakes her head vehemently because, por Dios, that Alex would _ever_ cheat on anyone is a ridiculous notion, though, she is very confused, just wants to untangle this gigantic, mysterious mess her ex has become for her: “No, I don’t,” she starts, staring her straight in the face, “But I come back after one year and barely recognize you anymore. And I’m not talking about the new look, which you totally rock by the way.”

Alex remains unfazed by the compliment waiting for her to go on.

“One day I see you making out with Reign and the next day I see a picture on your phone where you’re playing happy family with Arias and her daughter. It makes one think, you know.”

At Alex’ expression growing angrier with each word she says, Maggie realizes that she _maybe_ should have expressed that differently.

“You went through my _phone_?” she asks, through gritted teeth, holding so tightly onto the beer bottle that Maggie fears it will break any second.

“Mierda, no. It wasn’t like that,” she says hastily, though Alex is still staring daggers at her, so she adds, “Arias called you yesterday when you forgot the phone in my car. You set the picture as her caller ID.” The beer bottle is no longer in a life-threatening condition.

Alex doesn’t say anything for a long time, quietly sips her beer, alternating between staring at Maggie and the rough surface of the table. Right when Maggie thinks she should apologize again, she opens her mouth: “I know that I changed a lot in the last year and I know that everything must be pretty confusing to an outsider.”

Her heart clenches violently at the fact that this is what she turned into: an outsider.

“But that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that. Or about Sam and Reign.” 

Reluctantly, Maggie must admit that her ex does have a point there: “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Alex gives no indication that she either accepted the apology or not, though, continues with a heavy sigh: “You weren’t completely wrong, though,” She pushes a hand through her short hair: “I’m together with both of them,” when she sees Maggie’s completely dumbfounded expression, she quickly adds, “But I’m not having an affair. Seriously.”

“Actually, that makes me even more confused,” she deadpans.

Alex briefly shakes her head, takes another sip of beer before continuing: “It’s complicated. I know that,” Then she lets out a long breath, eyes suddenly growing heavy and clouded, her whole demeanor becoming sad in a way that her pain becomes almost tangible: “You have no idea what I went through the past year, what _we_ went through. I’m not _playing_ anything with Sam or Reign or Ruby. We _are_ a family.”

Maggie swallows heavily, mumbles: “You make it look so easy. Moving on.”

Alex lets out a bitter a laugh: “Believe me, it was not.”

They continue to drink in mutual silence for a couple of minutes until Maggie cannot bite back the question any longer, a question she really shouldn’t be asking, but, hey, she is a detective. It’s in her blood.

“Do Arias and Reign know about each other?”

For the fraction of a second, a smile flits across Alex’ face as if she just enjoyed a private joke, then she narrows her eyes: “You _really_ don’t know when to stop.”

Maggie shrugs: “I’m a Detective. I detect. Can’t help it.”

Alex briefly shakes her head again, places her palms on the table, then points a stern finger and a sterner gaze at her: “Listen, Sawyer. I cannot tell you anything more about Sam or Reign because it is not my place. And now I will go to that jukebox, “ there she points the finger at the old machine next to the dartboard, “And when I come back we can either talk about something else than my love life or you can leave.”

Then Alex pushes the chair back, stands up abruptly, leaving Maggie behind to decide in which direction she wants this evening to go. If she stands up now, any chance at being friends with Alex will probably be virtually zero and she will never be able to improve their relationship ever again. A multitude of feelings boil inside her, make her stomach revolt and make her feel all in all a little _queasy_. There is still the confusion about the state of affairs regarding, well, Alex’ affairs, though Maggie believes her ex when she says that neither woman is a fling. Then there is Maggie’s own sadness at seeing what kind of life Alex build for herself since their break up, how much she moved on while parts of Maggie are still stuck in the past. A past she cannot and wants not to go back to. And lastly, there is the duo of fleeting hope and happiness at being in National City again, at being _back_ again even if it is not for long and at being given the chance of a lifetime to become a platonic part of Alex’ life.

While Maggie watches how Alex searches for a Dime in the pockets of her jeans, she thinks that they could be great friends one day. Maybe not at the end of the week or the end of the year but _someday_. She is convinced.

So, Maggie remains seated, pushes any thoughts about complicated love triangles out of her mind and gives Alex a small, hopeful smile as she returns.

“Good choice,” she says before clinking their bottles. Maggie thinks so, too. “You know what?” Alex says, finally relaxing, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable, “I think now that we talked _more_ than sufficiently about me, we should talk about you.”

Maggie groans and rolls her eyes, already having suspected being the center of their conversation eventually.

“How have you been?”

It’s an easy question or it should be. Should be easily answered with the most frequently told lie in the world: I’m good. But Maggie, in all honesty, hasn’t been _that_ good and there has always been something in Alex’ eyes, something _trustworthy_ and _warm_ that she wanted to bear her heart to. Unable to meet those waiting hazel eyes, she fiddles with the label on her beer until she grows a pair eventually: “It’s been a tough year.”

And once she started, it is difficult to stop, to stop sharing how hard it was to process their break-up, to forget Alex, to fall in love again in the middle of June waiting in line at a coffee shop.

“Did you meet anyone?” Alex asks after sinking three bigs with a combination at the pool table.

Maggie shrugs, tries not to think about long red hair and ivory skin. When she thinks about summer now, she always thinks about those humid, long nights in which she sought out the warmth of another body although it was a billion degrees outside.

“No, not really,” she answers eventually, watching how Alex misses her next shot.

“For a police detective you sure are a _bad_ liar,” she taunts playfully.

Maggie twirls the cue between her fingers, yelling inwardly at her cheeks to not turn red and hot: “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbles, aligning the cue for her own shot.

“Oh please,” Alex scoffs, right when she pulls her left arm back, “Someone totally got your pants in a twist,” and Maggie misses so much that the cue ball bounces uselessly off the banks without hitting any other ball.

Grinning from ear to ear, Alex rounds the table leans in to her personal space to whisper very close to her ear: “You’re blushing like a teenager, so cut the crap and tell me her name.”

“Vete a la verga,” Maggie grumbles, shoving Alex  lightly then taking long, long sips of her beer to cool her flushed face.

“Ouch. No need to be so vulgar,” Alex says, though her tone clearly indicates that she is not mad.

When she doesn’t stop staring at her, Maggie finally gives in, with a huff: “Her name is Kate.”

Alex’ eyes flash with excitement and somehow she feels less reluctant to talk about her failed relationship with the redhead, all of a sudden. She really needs more friends. They both lean against the pool table, their backs turned towards the surface, the cues held forgotten between their legs: “Show me a picture.”

Less unwilling than she would have liked to, Maggie fishes the phone out of the back-pocket of her pants. When she found a suitable picture, showing her and Kate smiling into the camera from the deck of a private yacht, Alex lets out an appreciative whistle: “Is that Kate Kane?”

Maggie squirms nervously next to her: “Yup,” she answers curtly.

“From Kane Industries, the arms manufacturer?” Maggie nods again. “Oh, wow. Sam will be so jealous when I tell her.”

At that she crinkles her brows in puzzlement: “Why that?”

Alex gets this glazed, lovesick look on her face, she once had when she talked about Maggie: “Sam adores Kate Kane. She doesn’t really like the whole weapons thing or that she sometimes brings shame to all business women with her loose behavior, but Sam is a big fan.” She lets out a small laugh, “I think she told me something about how Kane revolutionized market analyses but in all honesty, I never understand a word when Sam talks financials or business.”

A small smile flits across Maggie’s face, too, while she listens to her ex trying _not_ to gush about her new girlfriend.

“By the way, looks like you have a type,” Alex grins, tapping the phone screen with her index finger.

At first Maggie doesn’t get it but then she sees it, too: the hair. “So, what? And you’re one to talk.”

Alex immediately tenses up and by now they are both blushing like teenagers. It definitely is _no_ coincidence that both Maggie and Sam have tanned skin and probably ancestors from Central America. Alex clears her throat: “And we both have a thing for chief officers apparently. Now that we established this, can we get back to the game?”

Quietly, they agree that sharing which kind of women they like to sleep with is just too _awkward_ for their first real meeting after the break-up.

They play two more rounds before they return to the bar to get more drinks. As they wait, Alex receives a message on her phone letting out a sound between a laugh and a snort. Maggie looks at her with raised eyebrows until the redhead slides the phone over: “They are having a Girl’s Night without me.”

The picture shows Arias and Ruby with face masks, cucumber slices covering their eyes and sticking their tongues out.

“Looks like fun.”

Alex chuckles again. “You hate girly stuff like that. Don’t lie.”

Maggie gives her a soft look, suddenly remembering chilly winter evenings in the first year of their relationship that they spent cuddled up in Maggie’s bathtub. Alex lit scented candles, put scented bath supplement in the water and looked as happy as a lark. “Yeah,” she drawls, “But _you_ like it.”

“Oh, you know me so well, Sawyer,” Alex grins.

They spent the rest of the night with easy and more and more pleasant conversations. Maggie gets to tell funny stories from the precinct in Metropolis and her new favorite jokes and Alex tells her about her first wobbly experiences as a mom and what the family life is like. Sometimes she slips a story about Reign in, too, making Maggie think that the former Worldkiller lives under the same roof as the three. But because things are _finally_ running smoothly between them, Maggie pushes the reemerging confusion back down. Maybe Alex will tell her about Arias and Reign before she leaves but she will beware broaching the subject again.

When it is close to midnight, Alex drains her second water, throws a couple of bills on the bar and looks for an Uber. She drags Maggie with her to the waiting car, proclaiming loudly that it was too late to walk, and driving was out of the question, too.

“Since when are you such a mom?” Maggie teases as they fall onto the back seats.

“Since I am a mom,” Alex answers proudly, adding, “Sam is rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, she is rubbing on you in more than one way.”

“Sawyer!”

The driver watches them amused through the rearview.

.

[When Maggie is already sleeping soundly, Alex unlocks the door, kicks her shoes off and tip-toes upstairs.

It has become a habit of hers to check in on Ruby when she returns home this late. Her daughter is deep in slumber, iPad still clutched tightly in her hands. Alex pries her fingers apart as gently as possible, puts the tablet on the nightstand and places a feather-light kiss on her forehead. Then she sneaks down the hall into the bedroom she shares with Sam for two months. She still owns her apartment in the city center, but Sam has slept there more often than Alex after long, long days at L-Corp in the last four months.

The light is already turned off and the room bathed in heavy shadows, but no matter how late it is, Sam always wakes up as soon as Alex is within arms-length of the bed. Her girlfriend stubbornly blames Reign for that particular talent of sensing when she is close, but Alex never quite believed that. Not that she minds.

Tentatively, she lifts the covers, climbs in and molds around Sam’s body on instinct. Her hands settle on her girlfriend’s taught stomach and she is so close to place a kiss on her exposed shoulder when Sam shoves a hand in her face: “You stink of alcohol.”

Her protest is muffled by the palm against her lips, so she snuggles closer, wrapping her body more securely around Sam.

“Just one little kiss, Sammy,” she whines when her girlfriend eventually retreats the hand.

Wordlessly, she turns around in Alex’ arms until their noses are only inches apart: “Just one. No funny business,” she warns in a stern voice, though Alex is already nodding her head eagerly, “I have work tomorrow. There’s another conference set for the morning with the suppliers in Denmark.”

Alex already kisses a trail from her collarbone to her jaw, “It’s a catastrophe. I know. It’s been for three weeks now,” she rumbles.

Subtly and obviously against her own will, Sam arches further into Alex, tilts her head to give her girlfriend a better access to her long neck: “As soon as you settle that deal, I’ll have you naked faster than Ruby will leave for a sleepover.”

Sam lets out a breathless laugh, biting her tongue to keep the moan in when Alex nibbles on her earlobe: “You have me naked?”

She runs a hand through her girlfriend’s short hair, tugs her head back gently until she can lock their gazes: “I have _so_ much time to imagine what I will do with you during the conferences while one of those old men gets lost in another monologue.”

Alex licks her lips unconsciously because oh she can’t wait for those phantasies to come true. “Ok, so maybe _you_ have _me_ naked. I can live with that,” she says and leans in.

The kiss is slow but deep and it doesn’t take long until Alex licks into her with broad, luxurious strokes. It doesn’t take long either until Sam pushes against her shoulders, cheeks flushed and chest heaving: “If you make Reign horny at close to one in the morning, I’ll make you sleep on the couch.”

Alex juts her bottom lip out, “No pouting, baby. That’s unfair.”

Alex juts her bottom lip out further, looks at Sam with round, pleading eyes.

“And no puppy eyes,” she says firmly then adds, “Just a couple more days. I promise.”

She kisses Alex on the cheek who snuggles into her arms with a long, whiny sigh: “You and Reign better fuck me senseless once this is over.”

Sam grins broadly before kissing her forehead: “Promise.”

Shortly before they both fall asleep, Sam mumbles: ”How did it go with Maggie?”

“Good,” Alex yawns, “We had fun. She had an affair with Kate Kane.”

“What?”]

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Maggie finds Alex staring into her coffee as if she wants to set it on fire.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

She has her arms crossed on the table, resting her head on her wrists with a groan: “Sam and Lena have a complicated situation at L-Corp.”

Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her miserable ex: “For how long?”

Alex lets out a longer groan, holds up three fingers, saying: “Three weeks.”

Maggie pats her shoulder supportively: “Cockblocked. You poor soul.”

Together they walk into the ready room, so Maggie can get a coffee for herself. “What’s with Reign? Can’t she help you out?”

“I wish she could,” Alex whines.

Maggie opens her mouth to ask what _that_ is supposed to mean again, though that is not what comes out: “You know what? Forget it. What are we doing with Rankin? Any new leads?”

“Not yet.”

For most of the morning, the two play footsie with Winn in the ready room. Kara must finish an article for CatCo on the gang development during the past six months and although she would much rather be playing with them, Lena threatened to withhold sex if Kara doesn’t meet the deadline again and well, that is something Kara cannot allow. When Maggie beats Alex the second time in a row, Winn’s tablet beeps. “Looks like something is happening at the depot.”

“Finally!” Alex exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, stirring them out of the ready room before Winn can even tell what happened.

Turns out that the nightshift surveilling the depot noticed some strange goings-on during the early hours of the morning: trucks coming and going, people coming and going, generally speaking it was a lot of movement. Now, one of the teams on duty spotted some higher ranked members of the Expatriates entering the compound and Alex and Maggie wanted to get an idea on the situation first-hand. As they climb into the Crown Victoria because the heavy DEO SUVs are way too suspicious, Winn asks through the headset: “Should I contact Reign? I know Supergirl is unavailable…”

Alex cuts him off hastily and way too loud: “No!”

Maggie stares at her bewildered and Winn says slowly, stretching the vowel long: “Ok.”

“She’s busy,” Alex explains, though to Maggie it sounds more like an excuse than the truth, “Like Supergirl. We’ll have to manage on our own.” The redhead coughs, awkwardly, quickly glances to Maggie then adds: “And if we run into trouble, we’ll call J’onn.”

Maggie shrugs and then they are on the way.

Staking out the perimeters doesn’t take long because it is pretty much what the Agents already said. Though suddenly, Alex spots Lorenzo White carrying heavy supply boxes from a truck parked close to the railways and abandoned goods wagons to the entry of the depot.

“I knew it was a good idea to release him,” Maggie says triumphantly as they get out of the car.

Alex contacts Winn about their movement and then the two sneak up on the truck as quiet as ninja. To their advantage it is the last in a semi-circle of similar trucks all parked in front of the depot and the armed guards look bored out of their mind, facing the other way. Next to the truck is an open goods wagon in which Maggie hides while Alex overwhelms White, the moment he comes back to retrieve a new box. A hand pressed firmly over his mouth, Alex drags him to the wagon, pushes him inside and climbs in after him. Blinking disoriented, White stares up at them, his back on the cold metal floor and Maggie and Alex kneeling left and right.

“Hi, Lorenzo.” Alex greets chipperly whereas Maggie gives him a little wave. He flinches and tries instantly to get away from them.

“Now, now, now. Not so fast,” Alex says grabbing his ankle and yanking him back.

“Where do you wanna go, Lorenzo? We have a couple of questions for you.”

His face becomes even paler while he tries to wriggle free like a bug turned on its shell: “You ladies are smokin’ but totally batshit.”

“For a second I thought you were making a compliment,“ Alex says before tightening her hold on his ankle and twisting it in an unhealthy angle, “Now tell us what is going on here.”

Somewhere between squeaky whimpers and choked out insults, he actually tells them what they want to know: “We are preparing for an auction. The boss wants everything to be top-shelf for his clients if you know what I mean.”

“Who will be there? Rankin?” Maggie wants to know.

“I don’t know, man. Everyone will be there.”

“What is with Rankin?”

“Who the fuck is Rankin?” White exclaims, flailing his hands as best as he can from his position pinned to the ground.

“Rankin,” Maggie tries again, “The Gordanian. Looks as awful as his personality suggests.”

White still looks like they are talking about Santa. Alex rolls her eyes: “Jesus, why did we have to catch the dumbest of you idiots."

“The trafficker. No hair. Green skin. Abnormally long tongue,” Maggie explains.

Suddenly, White’s eyes widen: “Oh, you mean the croc.”

She shakes her head in disbelief while Alex facepalms: “He’s a lizard, Lorenzo. Not a crocodile.”

“Will he be there?” Maggie interjects annoyed.

White nods his head vigorously: “Of course. He’s the one who will hold the auction.”

“When is it?”

“I don’t know. They’re not telling us anything.”

“I’m sure you have an idea,” Alex says as she releases his ankle only to grab his wrist with one hand while the other wraps around his index finger, “And for every answer that sounds like a lie, one of your fingers bites the dust.”

“Fuck, you crazy bitches!” White shouts, wriggling more intensely, however it is useless because Alex’ grip is merciless.

“That’s not what we want to hear,” Maggie says shrugging her shoulders and doesn’t stop when his cries begin to get louder.

“Ok, ok. I’ll tell you. Just stop!”

“Good boy,” Alex says, letting go of him.

“In three days. The invitations are send out digitally. Everyone gets a personalized code,” he says begrudgingly, rubbing his hand.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Maggie says sounding a tad bit patronizing while he sulks.

Alex stands up and lifts him up by the shoulder: “You better get back to work. Can’t have anyone missing you.”

Still cursing and muttering and pressing his hand against his chest, White jumps out of the goods wagon. “If you tell anyone we were here, I have you arrested and there is a nice communal cell with your name waiting for you,” Alex calls after him as he walks back to the truck. Before he is out of ear-shot, Maggie has a final question for him: “Lorenzo! One more thing,”

Sighing defiantly he turns back around, “What are you auctioning?”

His eyes widen comically, and he lets out a mocking laugh: “And you think I’m the dumb one?” They stare at him with hard faces then he flails his arms while simultaneously leaning his body forward in a small jerk. A gesture Maggie has seen from so many small-time crooks trying to come across as intimidating: “Aliens of course.”

Laughing and shaking his head, he returns to the trucks while Alex and Maggie stare at each other. A heavy lump forms in her throat. The Expatriates will sell people like Christie’s the Oppenheimer Blue. “You thinking what I am thinking?” Alex asks with a grim expression.

Maggie nods sternly. They have to stop that auction at all cost.

.

On the way back to the DEO, Alex informs Winn via headset about the auction and the digital invitations. He promises to be working on it as soon as possible and to pass everything straight to J’onn. Once they enter the war room, Maggie notices that they are the last ones to arrive. J’onn is already there, looking at them expectantly, Winn is occupied with his tablet and Kara is perusing the missing person databank for aliens, complaining loudly how utterly awful the Expatriates are.

“Is Reign still at work?” Maggie asks with raised eyebrows and heavy emphasis on her last word.

“I’ll let her in on our plan later,” Alex answers briefly then they are joining the others and work out a new plan of action.

Kara informs them that more than fifty registered aliens have gone missing in the past couple of months and that the dark figure must be even higher than that. At the thought that most of these aliens are probably in the hands of the Expatriates currently, all of their stomachs lurch painfully. Their number one priority will be to rescue all the captives, then they will do everything in their power to get a hold on Rankin and not let him slip away again and lastly, they will arrest as many of those bastards as possible. Alex’ words.

As soon as their plan gels, Alex excuses herself to make a private phone call. Maggie assumes it is to let Reign in on their plan and the soft look she sees on her ex’ face only reinforces her opinion. Suddenly, her lips stretch into a bright, blinding smile, and Maggie looks away. Two minutes later, she returns to the table, excitedly pulling at Kara’s elbow: “They sealed the deal.”

Apparently, Maggie is the only one who has no clue what that is supposed to mean because Kara gets the same eager look in her shining blue eyes as her sister and the same dazed smile spreads on her face and even J’onn and Winn let out relieved sighs.

“Finally,” Kara says dreamily.

Abruptly, Alex holds her left palm out, faced upwards, and hits it with her right fist as if she just got a brilliant idea: “We should totally celebrate that.”

“Oh, yes please,” Kara agrees immediately, “We haven’t been out in ages.”

Winn is quick to convince, too and to Maggie’s surprise even J’onn doesn’t have to think long: “Given that the auction will be in three days and that the compound is continuously monitored, I see no harm in a carefree night.”

Maggie inwardly prepares for a lonely evening either in the hotel bar or another bar when suddenly, Alex touches her arm: “You’re coming, too, right?”

She is convinced that both Lena Luthor and Arias will be there, too, because _they_ definitely sealed that deal and there might even be the _tiniest_ chance that Reign will be there, too and _that_ convinces Maggie that she rather should not join her old friends. The excuse is almost past her lips when Alex adds with sparkling eyes full of mischief and challenge: “Or are you scared to meet Sam again?”

She swallows the excuse down faster than Kara a pot-sticker. If Maggie Sawyer is one thing _not_ , it is being a coward. Alex and she are _friends_. Maggie is _over_ Alex. Surely, she could handle one evening with Samantha Arias being all lovey-dovey around Alex. She takes a deep breath, straightens her back, puffs out her chest and says: “Where are we going?”

.

When Maggie enters the alien bar this time, she is not the first to arrive.

At the wall side left of the pool table someone pushed a couple of tables together and Kara, Lena and Winn are already seated. Maggie is simultaneously relieved and uncomfortable that Alex isn’t there, yet. That means at the same time that she doesn’t have to come face to face with Arias again for now and that she must start off the evening as the ex-fiancé of a member of their little group who isn’t even there. As much as Winn and Kara became her friends, too, for the duration of her relationship with Alex, she suddenly feels reduced to a stranger again, to a mere appendage of someone and not an equal member of this circle of friends. The saddest thing is, she probably isn’t anymore.

For a couple of moments, she stands indecisive in front of the entrance but then she musters up her courage and crosses the bar. She has the feeling that Lena spotted her anyways. Kara’s face lights up the moment she sees her, Winn pats her on the shoulder and Lena gives her a sympathetic nod when she sits down.

They make light conversation while they wait for the others to arrive. Lena and Winn quickly loose the other two after they began a conversation about nanobot cameras and how they could be applied in medical diagnostics. Kara and Maggie stare at them in confusion then the blonde asks in a low voice with gentle eyes, eyes that never fail reminding Maggie of her favorite pair of hazel eyes: “How have you been?”

It seems like people cannot stop asking her this particular question and with Kara she feels more inclined to lie than with Alex. After a moment she settles for, “It’s been a tough year,” too because it is the closest to the truth without having to go too much into detail. In order to avoid _having_ to go too much into detail because Kara asks for it, Maggie asks a question in return, one she is really interested in: “You and Lena Luthor. How did that happen?”

The last time they met before she left, she still thought the blonde was straight. How things could change in a year. Kara’s cheeks turn pink in a way Maggie has never seen before. It’s sweet. With a shy smile and wide eyes filled with love and adoration, Kara stares at Lena, reaching her hand out to lace their fingers. Without interrupting her conversation with Winn, Lena gives Kara’s hand a little squeeze and Maggie doesn’t miss a similar smile creeping into her expression. “We had a tough year, too,” Kara says eventually, returning her attention to Maggie. “At some point, I realized that I didn’t want to wait any longer and miss the chance of telling her and after Mon-El came back-“

“Hold on,” Maggie interrupts her, placing a hand on her arm, “Mon-El came back?”

Kara gives her the same bewildered glance that Alex gave her as if everyone is supposed to know what happened the past year in their lives. Kara patiently tells her, so that Maggie finally is a little less confused, tells her how Mon-El came back with a wife in tow, how he still wanted to get back together and how she refused to have any of it. That he eventually returned to the future. With his wife in tow again, a smile on his face and his heart lighter than in the past seven years, finally leaving his old feelings behind. And how _she_ realized on doomsday that what she really wanted maybe has always been _right_ in front of her.

“What do you mean with not wanting to miss the chance?” Kara’s expression grows heavy and sad and Maggie instantly regrets asking. She doesn’t want to destroy the mood of their carefree evening before everyone is even here.

“There was a moment when I really wasn’t sure if we would survive and in case anything would have happened…” there Kara’s voice breaks a bit, she looks at Lena’s profile to find her voice again and the right words to carry on, “I had to tell her. I could have never forgiven myself if I hadn’t done it.”

Maggie wonders if Alex experienced such a moment, too, that led her to bear her feelings to Arias although she was scared because Jesus, Maggie knows that Alex must have been scared beyond words. If Kara wasn’t the only one though, thinking they actually could have died during their fight with the Worldkillers, then Maggie finally understands why everything and everyone changed so drastically in her absence. Being so close to death makes one consider a couple of things in life. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices how Lena plays with Kara’s fingers absentmindedly. Her eyes get glued to Lena’s palm once she realized that the faint scars running in vague horizontal lines across the soft flesh are not a trick of bad lighting. Maggie quickly looks away, wondering how many more scars each of them carries that she hasn’t seen yet, visible or invisible.

The next to arrive is J’onn who apologizes that he had to take care of his father before he was able to leave. For a while, he and Maggie talk about which possibilities there are to improve the cooperation between the DEO and civil services like the police. She is able to shake off more and more of the tension she feels because of Arias, is able to maybe even _relax_ but when she lets her gaze wander through the bar randomly around half an hour after she arrived, she sees them in the end.

Arias steps in first because Alex holds the door open for her. Maggie swallows briefly thanking God that she never actually had to compete with the tall brunette for Alex’ love and affection because Madre de Dios, Samantha Arias is one of the most beautiful women she has ever seen. Objectively speaking.

She has changed, too, since Maggie saw her last. Her hair is shorter, the change even more drastically than Alex’ new haircut because it barely reaches her shoulders anymore, the wavy curls ending in a nice bob. She wears a high-waisted leaf-green skirt with wide straps, a tight blouse and opaque tights against the cold. Her ankle boots have flat heels which makes Alex in her sneaker look a little _less_ small next to her as if the tall brunette wore high-heels. Alex is clad in one of her numerous leather jackets, light and tight jeans and a flannel button-up. They look so perfect next to each other that Maggie feels like puking. Super gross.

Adding to her uncomfortableness is the fact that the remaining two empty chairs are between herself and Winn. Without knowing why, she stands up when the couple nears the table: “Sorry we’re late. Ruby had to run back to the house three times before we could leave,” Alex apologizes.

“You cannot always blame your daughter for that,” Lena mocks her with a gigantic smirk and twinkling emerald eyes.

Meanwhile, Maggie barely listens to them, not really paying attention to them _at all_ because she is engaged in an intense staring duel with Arias. Neither of them makes any move to greet the other, only seizing each other up with calm eyes like enemies on a battlefield. Maggie cannot really gauge the other woman’s reaction, cannot say if she will make a scene or play it cool or play it polite and she never got to know Arias that well to be able to make any assumption. It takes a solid three minutes until Alex realizes that her ex-fiancé and current girlfriend are behaving like two boxer right before the first round.

“Oh,” Alex suddenly stutters, “I totally forgot.”

She puts a hand on the small of Arias’ back, motions with her arm back and forth, saying slightly nervous: “Maggie. Sam. I’m sure you remember each other.”

Surprisingly, Arias holds her hand out first: “Nice to see you again. You’re looking good.”

Maggie doesn’t know what to make of the compliment, takes the offered hand, shaking it with a short, steady pressure. Even Arias’ jewelry is tasteful, though the faint green glimmer of the silver bracelets around her wrists is a _bit_ irritating. Quickly she looks down at herself, at her tight Henley shirt and light-grey leather jacket that barely does anything to keep the chill away that begins to creep even into the Californian November nights. Compared to Arias, she looks like a troll. Or a dwarf, un enano, because she’s _tiny_.

“You, too. You look-“ she motions with her hand at the general perfection that is Samantha Arias.

Maggie gives her credit for not using this moment to brag. Instead Arias looks bashfully at the ground for a second says with a genuine small smile playing around her lips:

“Thank you.”

Then Maggie turns to Alex, tilts her head and asks with a little smirk because maybe she wants to be a bit _mean_ , wants to see Arias’ reaction: “Where did you leave your second girlfriend?”

Instead of Arias though, it is Alex who suddenly stiffens, turns red and looks at her hands: “Err. You see, Maggie.”

Arias touches her shoulder murmuring: “It’s ok, baby. We can tell her.”

Alex turns to her looking unsure: “Are you sure? Can she handle it?”

It’s all Greek to Maggie and she simply looks back and forth between them. Arias nods whereas Alex lets out a long sigh, then straightens her shoulders focusing back on Maggie:

“So, uhm. Now that you met Sam again let me introduce you to Reign.”

Alex holds her hand out like you normally do when you introduce new people, but all Maggie sees is Arias standing right next to her. Although. Something is not _quite_ right. Maggie is not an idiot. Everybody knows that. And her initial theory that Arias and Reign are indeed the same person was not _that_ unlikely considering the kind of people she surrounded herself with in National City. Though, given the way Alex talked about each of them Maggie got the persistent feeling that they are _not_ the same person after all, at least not in the same way as Supergirl is just an alter-ego of Kara Danvers.

“What’s going on here?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Alex cringes slightly as if she expected such a reaction while Arias, or Reign, rolls her eyes: “Maggie, this is Reign.”

For a couple of moments, Maggie stares at the woman in disbelief. The longer she looks, though, the more does she notice the small and the _not_ so small changes: how Reign stands straighter than Arias, how hard Reign’s features are and most of all how cold her slightly red eyes are. They hold nothing of Arias’ gentleness at least not now while they are directed at Maggie.

“Detective Sawyer,” she presses from between tightly gritted teeth, clearly having trouble pulling herself together.

Alex places a hand on her right elbow, gently urging her to uncross her arms.

“Reign,” Maggie responds, voice steady, in all honesty, though, she contemplates the possibility that Reign lunges at her any second.

“How about Reign and I get the first round of drinks?” Kara suddenly jumps to her rescue.

“Yeah, good idea,” Alex answers instantly. Reign doesn’t tear her eyes away from Maggie until Alex nudges her, “What do you say, babe?”

The Worldkiller gives her one final scoffing glance then follows Kara to the bar.

“I’m sorry for that,” Alex says, sitting down into Maggie’s chair, “It’s just…She’s just…”

Maggie needs a bit of time to process what she just saw, nonetheless, she says: “Try possessive?”

She shakes her head in embarrassment, though, the smile around her lips tells a different story: “She is. I’m sorry.”

Maggie sits back down, so that one chair remains empty at either side of her and Alex. She casts a glance over her shoulder towards the bar, to Arias and Kara. Arias flags down the bartender with so much ease and confidence that it must be her again controlling their body instead of the socially awkward Worldkiller. She shakes her head. That explains _almost_ everything.

“Just so I get it straight. Reign and Arias share the same body and the three of you are a happy trouple?”

She does her best to not sound _too_ disbelieving. The Alex Danvers she left got flustered if a pretty woman only looked at her too long let alone flirted with her. Between them, Maggie was the one to guide and Alex happily followed. She guided her into accepting her own sexuality, into her first real relationship and into sex. Alex was confident in so many aspects of her life but at least a year ago she was insecure and nervous and overwhelmed like a teenager taking her first cautious steps into romantic waters. Today, Alex carries herself with a new confidence, one that covers not only her work but also her relationship. Maggie thinks it suits her, this confidence, this perky swagger just as much as her new butchier looks, _soft_ butch because whatever Alex does she could never pull off the cold, hard-boiled looks of Reign. She’s always _soft_ in one way or another. Today, Alex has not only _one_ but _two_ girlfriends, raises a kid everybody seems to address as her own and Maggie cannot imagine that Alex’ relationship with Arias and Reign is anything, even _remotely_ , like theirs was. She has changed, and Maggie can say without lying to herself that she is _happy_ for her. By now, they are both staring at the bar, Maggie with furrowed brows and Alex with lovesick puppy eyes:

“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’.

Then Kara and Arias return arms loaded with drinks and Maggie swears to herself that she will have a _nice_ evening. Unless, Reign decides after all to come at her. But the Worldkiller stays quiet and Arias in control and Maggie relaxes more and more with each beer she has.

If you would ask her the next day, Maggie could not explain how she ended up with Arias in front of the Jukebox while everybody else tried to teach Winn pool. Again.

“Fancy drink you have,” Maggie says as she leans her back against the machine while Arias attempts to choose a song. She looks at the deep red drink in her hand, the trademark celery stick still untouched because, yikes, who likes celery? Out of impulse or one too many beers, Maggie grabs the glass completely ignoring how Arias exclaims:

“Don’t do that!” and instantly regretting the long sip she takes through the straw.

Her mouth feels like she just swallowed a blend of tabasco, wasabi and jalapeños, tears spring to her eyes and she starts coughing immediately. Carefully, Arias takes the drink from her shaking hands: “I told you not to do that.”

Blinking the tears away, Maggie croaks: “What the _hell_ is that?”

Then she chugs half her beer.

“A Bloody Reign,” she explains, stirs the horrible drink with the celery stick before taking a sip.

Maggie shudders just from watching: “I’m pretty sure you could _kill_ people with that.”

Arias actually chuckles at that, shrugs and says: “Reign has the taste-buds of a zombie. She only likes really spicy food.”

Maggie shakes the last of the burning in her body off, giving Arias a sympathetic smile: “And now you’re stuck with drinking liquid fire for the rest of the night?”

Arias shakes her head: “Oh no. Whoever is in control when we’re going out must grant the other one drink. That’s the rule.”

“Sounds fair.”

Arias nods her head: “I once made the mistake and drank alien alcohol for a whole night with Kara,” Maggie looks at her expectantly, “She had a hangover, but I had to spend three days in the med bay. Even with Reign inside me, I can only handle one alien drink.” Maggie grins, looking at Alex who just jumped out of the way of an oncoming big that Winn send flying across the whole pool table:

“Bet she was pissed.”

“Super pissed,” the other woman agrees.

When Alex notices them staring, she sends them a blinding smile and briefly leans in to whisper something in Kara’s ear. Then she bounds over to them, a hand in her pocket, humming something playfully: “If you’re lost you can look and you will find me.”

Both Maggie’s and Arias’ eyes widen at the sing-song: “Oh no.”

“Alex, baby. Don’t-“

But then Alex stumbles into Arias, presses her against the Jukebox, reaches her arm around her girlfriend’s hip and pushes the Dime in the slot with a happy whistle: “Time after time.”

The next moment, she tugs on Arias’ arm and the next four minutes Maggie watches amused how Lena and Alex belt the lyrics to Cyndi Lauper in their wineglass and beer bottle respectively while Kara and Arias pretend to not know them.

It’s half past one and Winn and J’onn have already left when Kara announces that they must also celebrate that they all have a day off tomorrow and can actually drink this Wednesday night away. Somehow Alex and Maggie end up at the bar this time and maybe it is because this night is way _more_ fun than she thought or because each of them had _more_ drinks than fingers on one hand, Maggie says with a heavy tongue: “You love them, right?”

Alex switched to water during the past hour and answers less slurred: “Yes, I do. Both of them.”

No pretense, no elusion, no waver. The words are strong and honest. Then she looks across the bar, and Maggie looks, too, sees how Arias and Lena down Tequila to celebrate the most successful business deal of the year so far. She is so caught up in staring at the tall brunette in _maybe_ a bit of envy that she almost misses how Alex nudges her. The bartender, a dark-skinned beautiful woman with large, round eyes and a prominent jaw, pays so much extra attention to Maggie’s beer that it is anything but subtle. Alex’ head tilt towards her isn’t subtle either and, Madre de Dios, Maggie has no clue why, but she sends a suggestive smile across the wet surface of the bar.

“She totally has the hots for you,” Alex whispers barely under her breath before grabbing the remaining drinks and leaving Maggie to fend for herself.

The bartender smiles back at her, Maggie’s heart skips a beat then the woman turns to other customers and her heart skips a beat again because only now does Maggie realize the thin leather harness around her torso, strapping a pair of fluffy white wings to her back.

An Anasazi.

Maggie swallows. Then she follows Alex.

.

 

[When Maggie is three knuckles deep in Dawnstar and it is raining feathers on her bare back, Alex and Sam stumble in a whirlwind of frenzy kisses through their bedroom door.

It’s impossible to tell who is undressing who but Alex’ flannel ended up somewhere on the landing and Sam’s skirt hits the floor right now.

“I wanted to do this all night,” Sam husks before crashing their lips back together.

Alex kisses back hungrily, flicks her tongue across Sam’s bottom lip, showing her that she is just as impatient, waited just as long. Three weeks of imagining this and helping herself left Alex _aching_ for Sam. Then they are both struggling with buttons and tight pants making little progress because oh they _just_ can’t stop touching or kissing.

“Kissing me?” Alex asks grinning, nimble fingers working on the buttons of the white blouse, “I remember you doing that plenty of times tonight.”

Suddenly, there is a fire in Sam’s eyes that has her weak in the knees, a glint that tells Alex that she will have nothing to say tonight. A pleasant shiver runs through her. She would never admit it, always insists on being a _top_ especially in front of Lena but _hey_ lying under Sam or Reign, being completely at their mercy, doing everything they want, _bottoming_ for them. Jesus, that is her very personal kind of ecstasy. And when Sam’s jaw twitches because Alex was being cheeky, and she grabs her face roughly, kissing her with the intention to bruise, well then Alex knows that it is going to be one of _those_ nights and the anticipation alone is so delicious that her fingers forget what they are supposed to do.

“Showing everyone that you’re mine,” Sam rumbles, amber eyes burning bright as the sun.

She is pretty sure that _everyone_ actually only implies _one_ person.

“I’m all yours, baby,” Alex whispers breathlessly against her lips and meaning it, her strong hands wandering under Sam’s open blouse, her lips finding the curve of Sam’s jaw.

“What do you want me to do?”

Sam moans either because she knows perfectly what she wants her girlfriend to do or because Alex sucked on the spot below her ear that always works her up.

“On the bed,” she says with hungry eyes, stripping out of her thighs.

When Alex settles against the cushions, biting her lip and her body tingling all over, Sam shakes her head: “No. Turn around.”

Alex’ eyes widen, probably from arousal, she swallows and does as she is told. She has just pushed the pillow aside, when she feels the mattress dip, sensing Sam hovering over her more than she actually sees it. Sam pushes a hand in Alex’ hair, tugs it out of her face and begins to plant kisses against the shell of her right ear and across her neck. In this position, Alex has no option to touch Sam, so she curls her fingers in the bedsheet because, good God, she already needs something, _anything_ to hold onto. Sam’s hot mouth travels down her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, one hand holds her upright only inches away from Alex’ that has the bedsheet in a death grip and the other alternates between running up and down Alex’ side and burying in her red hair. She takes her time raining kisses on the creamy skin of her back but eventually Sam reaches the waistband of her jeans.

“Lift your hips.”

She complies instantly, raises her hips just enough so that she can reach the button and before she knows it, Sam yanks both the jeans and her underwear down. The mattress dips again and then Sam’s lips connect with the end of her spine and Alex isn’t even embarrassed by the sound that escapes her. Something between a _whine_ and a _mewl_. Something already _desperate_ before Sam has even really touched her. Her hips buck on their own accord because damn it she wants Sam to eat her out slow and torturously and-

A hand suddenly presses in the small of her back, shoving her hard into the mattress, making her groan.

“Don’t move.”

Alex is shaking from holding back, presses her hips harder into the mattress herself because Sam finally, finally climbs on top of her, one knee between Alex’ legs, her front pressed against Alex’ ass, and the weight settling on her lures another moan out of her.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

She nods her head, incapable of producing any words with Sam’s breasts pushing against her shoulder blades. Her hips are still raised a little and when Alex feels how not only her own wetness, but Sam’s too drips down the inside of her thigh, she bites her lip so hard it will split. One hand finds its way into her hair and tugs. Hard. Again. She _loves_ it.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes…God…yes, yes.”

“Good girl.”

Then Sam pushes one arm between the mattress and Alex’ chest, holding her close, anchoring her so tight to her own body that the redhead could not move anywhere even if she wanted to. The position must be _kind_ of uncomfortable and _kind_ of awkward but somehow Sam manages to run the fingers of her other hand through Alex’ folds, slow and teasing and Alex helplessly clenches around _nothing_. Sam’s whole hand must be coated in her sticky desire by the time she finally, finally slips a finger into her trembling girlfriend. Meanwhile, Alex is so wet that one finger does barely anything to quench her lust, is just enough to _hint_ at how it will feel when she gets what she really wants, is just _teasing_ her insides and, Jesus Christ, Sam knows. She moves the finger in an out at a steady, slow speed. No curling, no stretching. Just in and out and it’s driving Alex insane.

She needs _more_. More _fingers_ , more _touch_ , more of _Sam_. But when she moves her hips backwards to meet her girlfriend, Sam’s movements still completely, she lets the finger simply _rest_ nestled deep in Alex and frankly that is even _worse_.

“Sam…” Alex whimpers, high and whiny and she doesn’t give a damn.

“You think you deserve another one?”

“Please.”

Without another word, Sam pushes a second finger inside and Alex jerks and shifts and bites into Sam’s wrist to stifle her own moan. Suddenly, Sam flexes her arm, pinning Alex even more against her chest, rumbling breathlessly: “Let me hear your voice. I want to hear you, baby.”

“Sam…Sam…Sam…” Alex cries into the pillow.

Sam’s forehead comes to rest on Alex’ shoulder and a low moan washes down the redhead’s spine and Sam rests even more of herself on Alex. She is turned on so _much_ , so _ready_ , so _sensitive_ that she probably is close to forgetting her own name but even through the haze she notices that the control is steadily slipping from Sam. Her breath is becoming labored, slips into _panting_ , a thin sheet of sweat makes both their bodies slick and a couple of times Sam even has to break her rhythm, has to stop completely before she is able to continue the teasing. And even though Alex is the one trapped under Sam, the one who is unable to move more than her fingers, she feels a deep satisfaction at the fact that Sam can barely hold it together anymore either.

The moment that her control snaps, that she _indeed_ cannot hold it together anymore isn’t long in coming. Out of nowhere, she drops her whole weight on Alex, slips her fingers out only to sneak her hand around Alex’ waist, over her hipbone and when her fingertips touch Alex’ clit, the redhead thrashes in her hold: “Sam…please…please…please.”

“Fuck…Alex…” Sam chokes equally breathless right next to her ear, begins to roll her hips forward in the same rhythm in which she moves her fingers across Alex’ clit.

She feels Sam’s heat against the back of her thigh, tries to flex the strong muscle there to give her girlfriend anything to rub against but when Sam increases the speed, Alex is reduced to nothing but _whimpers_ and _moans_. When her orgasm hits her, everything inside her turns to burning liquid, _white_ and _hot_ and _searing_ and when Sam doesn’t stop, only increases the pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves, Alex surely blackens out for a second because her body cannot take such long orgasms. And when Sam cries out on top of her, her own hips jerking because she comes, too, it is simply _too_ much.

For a while they lie in the messy sheets, Alex still on her stomach, Sam on her back, lazily holding hands while they try to catch their breath. Not before long, Alex’ eyes fall shut because when Sam fucks her like _this_ it leaves her unable to do anything for longer than she likes to admit. She almost misses how Sam shifts next to her, places a light kiss on her sweaty shoulder and gets up from the bed. Alex _should_ have known what comes now because yeah Reign is _never_ far behind on nights like this and it has happened in the past that she didn’t get the chance to show her love for either Sam or Reign because the two took turns and their time to fuck her _blind_.

Now, she is still struggling to get her heartrate back under control when she senses someone returning to the bed.

“Are you ready for round two?” Reign’s voice is always a bit deeper than Sam’s, always a bit rougher. Alex looks for words in her empty head and for the strength to move in her heavy limbs.

“I…I…oh.”

Reign gently pushes sweaty strands from her cheek and temple, places a long kiss there, doesn’t move to speak: “You said we better fuck you senseless.”

Her body is warm and hard against Alex and she wants it, Jesus Christ, she wants it so much, always wants them _both_ , but Sam robbed her of the ability to verbalize any of it.

“Are you already senseless, Alexandra?”

She moans in response. Reign shifts next to her, into pretty much the same position as Sam, though her knees are next to Alex’ not between her calves. Alex jerks and gasps when the hard silicone bumps against her. One of Reign’s hands travels up her spine and into her hair, grabbing onto a handful of red curls, the other holds onto her hipbone, pulls until she is kneeling. Then Reign leans forward and the silicone slips from atop Alex’ ass, across her dripping entrance and the head comes to rest against her clit that is still throbbing from her first orgasm.

“I need you to tell me. I need a sign,” Reign groans, beginning to roll her hips forward so that the head rubs without any pressure back and forth.

Alex’ head is swimming in a sea of pleasure and she cannot say _anything_. Instead she turns her head and flicks her tongue against Reign’s fingers. Reign hisses, suddenly snaps her hips forward and they both groan and the silicone must be slippery with Alex’ wetness.

When she feels the tips of Reign’s index and middle finger against her lips, she opens her mouth.

She sucks the digits deeper in, relishing in Reign’s guttural groan: “Do you want me to fuck you, Alexandra?”

She sucks harder in response.

Since Reign understood what a strap-on is and how much _fun_ one could have with it, she is the _biggest_ fan and quickly became as skilled as Sam. She was always eager to practice. Now, she slides into Alex with one, smooth, powerful thrust until skin connects with skin and Alex gasps again because the stretch is _pleasant_ but _sudden_ and she is filled _perfectly._

Reign takes her time to build a rhythm, moves her hips in perfect sync with her fingers: in an out of Alex’ aching center, in an out of Alex’ mouth.

And just like she thought when she saw Sam’s glinting eyes, Alex doesn’t get to say anything tonight. Sam and Reign send her over the edge again and again, _fucking_ her, _loving_ her so thoroughly that she must be carried into the shower when both her girlfriends are satisfied and happy, hours later. Alex thinks she is the luckiest woman in the world.]

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie wakes up in an empty bed.

Only the sweet heaviness in her limbs and the feathers spread all over the sheets are proof of what happened last night. Yawning, she falls back into the soft pillows after she checked her phone. No messages. Seven a.m., and she flitters in and out of sleep for two more hours. Then she changes into her sportswear, puts on her running shoes and jumps into the Crown Victoria.

The beach is deserted on this dull November morning. She inhales the salty air deeply thinking that this is just how she likes it before falling into a relaxed run.

Shortly after eleven she is back at the hotel and decides for a long bath because her apartment in Metropolis misses this luxury and yes, sometimes even _she_ likes to soak in a hot bubble-bath for hours. She gets to relax for less than an hour before Alex calls her.

She’s going out to lunch with Kara and Lena, mumbling something about Arias ditching her this morning and Maggie agrees because she hasn’t eaten since yesterday and after the run and all the alcohol the night before she is starving. Maggie waited for not longer than a handful of minutes in front of Noonan’s when Alex comes stalking towards her, her step careful and her legs a little, how do you say, bowlegged.

“Oye, Danvers. You look like someone gave you quite the night.”

Alex’ cheeks turn red faster than the lights at a traffic light change, she tries to hide her telltale posture and fails miserably: “Was totally worth it.”

“If you say so.”

“Let’s get in there,” Alex grumbles, slaps Maggie on the back to get her going and por el amor de Dios Maggie _never_ yelps. But she yelps. Alex laughs unabashed as she winces.

“Guess I’m not the only one who had quite the night.”

Maggie curses her in Spanish until they are sitting down. Carefully.

They are sipping on a black coffee and a cappuccino respectively when Kara and Lena near them hand in hand. Wide smirks appear on both their faces because Lena wears a tight dress that allows little room to move but oh she is _more_ bowlegged than Maggie and Alex together.

“Not. One. Word,” she hisses whereas Kara waves at them innocently and carefree:

“Hey guys.”

Without lowering her voice, Alex turns to Maggie: “You know if I can arrest someone for being too good in bed? I think Kara might be guilty.”

Maggie snorts, Kara whines and Lena exclaims with flushed cheeks: “Shut up, Danvers.”  Alex continues to laugh in her face. “I happen to know that a certain someone got busted by her daughter this morning, so watch out.”

Alex’ laughter dies away: “Oh no.”

“Don’t you want to share?” Maggie asks, grinning mischievously.

Head buried in her hands, Alex mumbles: “This morning when Sam and I were still sleeping-“

Lena interrupts her: “ Naked if I might add.”

Alex shoots daggers at her: “When we were still sleeping someone suddenly barges into the room, yelling ‘moms’ at the top of her lungs and I swear to God, Ruby almost gave me heart-attack.” After Alex endured the round of laughter, she adds: “Giving her a house-key because she is a teenager now was the worst decision ever.” The air-quotes are heavy around the ‘teenager’.

As soon as the waitress is gone, Alex tells them that Reign was supposed to take Ruby to the ice-skating rink today and due to their nightly activities all three of them forgot. While they eat, Winn calls to let them know that he hacked into the distribution system for the invitations of the Expatriates and that Maggie, Kara, Sam and Alex are now officially _stinking_ rich auctioneers.  They receive the appropriate QR-code on their phones in the next three seconds.

After lunch, their ways split. Alex returns to the suburbs for family time. Kara and Lena return to the millionaire’s ludicrous expensive penthouse and Maggie decides to use the mild temperatures for an extensive walk through the city and maybe she will visit one or two beaches again. Until the day after tomorrow they cannot do much about Rankin  and the auction and they all deserved a day off although none of them would ever demand it.

 

* * *

 

 

On Saturday morning, they come together again at the DEO and Alex and Arias are the last ones to arrive. Maggie is more than mildly surprised when the teenage girl from Alex’ phone comes bounding into the war room excitedly making a beeline to Winn and his computers. Ruby.

Not five minutes later, her moms appear, and Alex asks if Ruby greeted her. When Maggie negates, Sam rolls her eyes, muttering: “Oh, this girl,” and Alex calls her over.

Ruby does as her moms tell her, though, the reluctance is more than obvious in her whole demeanor and, Madre de Dios, if looks could kill. Well, Maggie would be reduced to nothing but ash. Together with Alex, the girl walks to J’onn and Maggie mumbles: “What was that? Am I public enemy number one in Ruby-Land?”

Arias actually dares to snort next to her: “Don’t worry. She’s just scared that you’ll snatch her mama away.”

With wide, panicked eyes she whirls around because that is definitely the very, very last thing she is here for: “No! That’s not…I would never do that,” she exclaims, arms flailing wildly.

“Relax, Maggie. I know, “ Arias says with a gentle smile, placing a hand on her arm to calm her down. It is the _only_ time Arias uses her first name. “Until last year, it was only Ruby and I. Always. Alex is her dream come true.”

Maggie nods unsure, staring with furrowed brows at Ruby who currently is hugging J’onn’s father and leaves the room with him. Alex is most likely not only the _child’s_ dream come true. The look Arias gives her is the very definition of heart-eyes. Like an after-thought, Maggie realizes that Arias has been so calm around her all the time because in contrast to her daughter she never saw her as a threat.

The briefing doesn’t take long, their three priorities didn’t change after all. Maggie and Alex can barely hide their excitement about the undercover mission. Kara and Arias scold them that they will be _working_ that _lives_ are at stake. They still make a bet on who will arrest Rankin. Maggie really hopes it’s herself because she cannot wait to wipe the self-satisfied grin from the Gordanian’s face with  a good, heavy punch.

.

In the evening, Maggie is about to put her earrings in, when there is a knock on the door of her hotel room.

Puzzled, she walks to the entrance, not expecting anyone. She expected to take the Crown Victoria to the depot. After a quick glance through the peephole, she puts her gun back on the sideboard, opens and almost keels over. Kara stands on the other side, looking nothing like she has ever seen her before. She wears make-up, heavy and dark around the eyes, her hair falls on her shoulders, less curly than normally as Supergirl and her clothes. Maggie doesn’t even _go_ there because this is her ex’ little sister, this is little Danvers but damn, does she look good. She wears a long blazer out of tight cloth with an all-over flower print, a tight black suit and a pair of flat-heeled Budapester rounds everything up.

“Hey, Maggie,” the blonde greets her with warm cheeks, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and yup she is back to being the Kara Maggie loves and knows, “This was Lena’s idea…she can’t come with us…too dangerous,” she rambles.

Maggie clears her throat, motions at Kara with her right hand: “You look…uhm.”

Kara puts a hand to the side of her face as if she wants to adjust glasses that aren’t there this evening: “I know this is too much. But Lena insisted. I can’t say no to her.”

Maggie shakes her head and steps into her heels: “That’s not what I meant. You look gorgeous, Kara.”

She lets out a nervous squeak, her cheeks turning pink, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. Nonetheless, she politely offers her arm to Maggie when they leave.

When they sit in the elegant, black town car, courtesy of L-Corp, Kara explains: “It’s easier to hide the suits,” Maggie stares at her with raised eyebrows, “The superhero suits,” she whispers.

That means, in all likeliness, that Reign _or_ Sam or Reign _and_ Sam, who cares, show up in a suit, too, to hide the, well, _suit_ and Maggie doesn’t even want to imagine that.

“Maldita mierda,” she grumbles, staring intently out the window. If she is the only one wearing a dress tonight, she’ll strangle someone. Preferably Rankin.

.

Before they step up to the line in front of the depot, Kara hands Maggie an ear-piece and suddenly a tangle of voices hums in her ear. Winn is nervous because he fears that the invitations don’t work, J’onn is warranting them back-up, waiting just around the corner of the old industrial quarter and Alex and Arias make up backstories for the various auctioneers. They look, at least in Maggie’s humble opinion, drop dead gorgeous. Arias has her hair tied into a high, stern ponytail, wearing heavy, dark make-up, even darker than Kara’s. Ok, so maybe _this_ is Reign. Because her suit is all black, even her shirt, and her nails are black, and her dress shoes are black, too. Next to her monochrome, Alex is sparkling like a comet. She has her hair styled into a twenties water wave at least the long part and it looks stunning even with the short sides. Maggie lets out a small sigh of relief because, gracias a Dios, Alex is in a dress. Its color is caught somewhere between turquoise and teal, creating a nice, vibrant contrast with her hair, ending around mid-thigh and no sleeves. Due to her heels, the height difference between her and Reign is minimal. Heels. Maggie looks down at herself. They will _hate_ themselves for wearing them but _hey_ , a girl can look nice now and again.

Now, for the first time, Maggie lets her eyes roam over the auctioneers and the depot. There are quite a lot of people, ranging from little street gangster wearing too much gold to elderly man in expensive evening gowns and flies. It is the later who make Maggie shudder because young men may be brutal because they are trying to proof themselves to one gang boss or the other but old, white man, oh _they_ are the real demons in the world, capable of the truly disgusting things. Maggie swears to arrest them all personally tonight. There is the occasional woman, too and compared to those, the four of them are _almost_ underdressed. The whole compound is guarded by heavily armed members of the Expatriate and if they try something too early or their cover is blown they are dead in the water. Alex catches her eye through the crowd and winks at her what Reign notices who gives her a short nod. Maggie nods back then concentrates on her surroundings again.

There is no sign of neither any caged alien nor of Rankin. The depot consists of three connected warehouses with three heavy iron sliding gates respectively. The guests are currently let through the gates of the middle building, though, she expects that people will be guided left and right, so that the auction platform can be set up in the middle. The line moves slowly forward. In each of the three gates stand two Expatriates with scanning devices and one stern looking security guy. Winn is getting more and more nervous. Reign says something about simply barging in if his technical magic doesn’t work and everyone tries to put that idea out of the Worldkiller’s head in hushed voices. Escape routes are scarce because the other gates seem to be locked and the even scarcer windows are small and high up in the façade. It is impossible to see what is behind the buildings and Maggie mentally kicks herself that they didn’t check the last time they were here. Probably the rails and abandoned goods wagons and a lot of nothing. But where are the captivated aliens? Before they know their whereabouts, their hands are tied. Suddenly, Maggie stares in the gruff face of a Teban, a mountain of slightly yellow muscles, with flaxen hair.

“Invitation,” he says in a heavy accent.

Maggie and Kara hold their phones out, while Winn is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. They wait for ten seconds then the device in the Teban’s hand makes a dissatisfied beeping sound. He looks at them with an unreadable expression but the security guy behind him is alerted now and Maggie feels how Kara flexes her muscles under her suit because she is still hanging on her arm.

“Try again,” Maggie says coolly, “We are here on special request of Rankin. I don’t want to be forced to tell him about a misunderstanding.”

The Teban raises an eyebrow and repeats the scan. Maggie holds her breath. Kara’s bicep is as hard as steel.

“Have fun,” he says, waving them through.

Winn is letting out a _long_ sigh of relief.

Once inside, Maggie realizes she was right. At the left and right far side of the warehouses, long bars are installed, the shelfs behind them stocked with the finest, most expensive alcohol, reaching right under the ceiling. Except from the bars and the center stage, the auction platform, which are bathed in bright, white light from modern spotlights, the rest of the depot is swimming in the yellow-orange hue of old industrial lamps. Not the best premise to find secret dens, escape routes or a bunch of caged aliens. A balustrade runs undisturbed through all three buildings, almost ten feet above their heads, clearly reserved for the most important guests. While the trash can bustle on the ground. Even organized crime is a split society Maggie realizes with a sour face.

“Anyone already saw anything interesting?” Alex’ voice echoes in her ear. They all negate. “Let’s low-key sweep the place.”

They split up and Maggie actually manages it to get on the balustrade. She sees more than one prominent face hiding in the shadows but still no Rankin or alien that is here against its will. From her spot above the event, she can see that the auction platform is an old goods wagon, standing on a rotary platform and it must be modified slightly because the roof looks newer than the rest of the rusted steel. Then she spots Alex and Reign in the crowd. They are standing close together, one of Alex’ hands rests on the small of the Worldkiller’s back and they are whispering with agitated faces. Reign looks like she wants to blast half of the people here into oblivion with her heat-gaze. Maggie listens in on their conversation with the ear-piece.

“All these sinners should be punished. What they do is not just.”

Maggie tilts her head in agreement. The Worldkiller is definitely right about that but she rather not wants to find out what kind of punishment Reign designated for traffickers like Rankin. Probably one that is deadly.

Alex must think the same: “We are here to arrest them. Not to kill them.”

Reign screws up her face: “They are selling living beings.”

“I know, babe. I know. And we will get them.”

Apparently, there is still a lot of Worldkiller left in Reign although she now plays for Team-Super. Considering the true atrocity of this night, the horrible, disgusting things that most aliens will await once they are sold, Maggie cannot even blame Reign. She is an alien, too, and Kara, too and she cannot even imagine what it must be like to witness first hand how some people treat people like them. For a split second, she fears that someone will recognize Arias as Reign and Kara as Supergirl and, jeez, then they would be in real trouble because two Kryptonians on an alien auction smells like disaster. Alex continues to mumble soothing words into her girlfriend’s ear and Maggie decides it would be better to tune out again.

Instead, she searches for Kara in the crowd and when she found her, she returns downstairs.

“Anything?” Kara shakes her head. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Maggie says disgruntled, snatching a glass of champagne from the tray of a bypassing waiter.

They don’t have to wait long before they see. After a short while, the lights are dimmed, and the spotlights focus on the one wagon in the center of the buildings. A nervous and agitated silence befalls the audience and then Rankin appears on the roof of the wagon, emerging from its dark belly on a moving platform. An old-fashioned microphone stands in front of him and he wears an oversized, equally old-fashioned classic fur coat:

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he says into the microphone, spreading his arms wide to encompass the whole depot, “Welcome.”

His tone is conspiratorially and solemnly, transfixing his guests. With grim faces Reign, Alex, Kara and Maggie listen to him talking about the history of auctions and how the Expatriates bridge a gap in the market with their exclusive service.

“You want a Dhorian and Alstairan for a little combative entertainment at a dinner party?” Rankin asks, a roguish grin on his face. Then he turns around to the other part of his audience: “Or an Amazon for a little fun between the sheets?” He wriggles his non-existent eyebrows suggestively. There is a round of laughter in the audience and Maggie feels sick. “Or you are tired of constantly listening to the police radio and still getting busted when you traffic your guns, your drugs or your women? No problem. Get a Hykraian.” 

Angry Kryptonese trickles into Maggie’s ear and although she doesn’t understand a word, she is pretty sure Reign wishes them all to hell. This time, it is Kara who tries to calm her down.

Rankin continues like this for a bit, getting his audience all fired up and as horrible as the whole show is, Maggie has to admit that he definitely knows what he is doing here. He is charismatic in a way his reptile unflattering appearance would not suggest and he has each and every one of his guests hanging on his every word. The first auction is the worst because the small, fragile looking alien doesn’t look older than a teenage human, not older than Ruby. Maggie wants to puke.

To not shoot in Rankin’s sleazy mug, she concentrates on the mechanism that made the young alien appear next to the Gordanian. It must be a second movable platform. Briefly, she wonders why the alien doesn’t try to protest, doesn’t even move a muscle when Rankin begins to sell them like a piece of meat until she realizes the distant, empty look in their eyes.

“They are sedated,” Maggie’s whispers into the ear-piece.

“Can you make out where they come from?” Alex asks, sounding just as distraught as Maggie feels.

“Reign? You see it?” Kara says in a low voice. They must use their x-ray vision because the Worldkiller answers:

“There is a tunnel leading from below the wagon to another building.”

Kara nods: “I guess that is where they are keeping the others.”

“We cannot be sure, though,” Alex interjects and no matter how desperate they all want to end this auction as soon as possible, they have to wait longer.

Four more aliens are sold while they continue the observation. Twenty-three thousand dollars, fifty thousand dollars and eighty-six thousand dollars. That is how much a life is worth to these people. The sheer anger in Maggie gets worse and worse each time an auctioneer raises their hand. When the last alien is sold for thirty-one thousand dollars, Rankin makes a dramatic pause: “Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me come to a very special moment tonight.”

The spotlights are dimmed.

Oh no. What now?

Rankin walks in a small circle on top of the wagon: “I know, I know dear guests that you all came to buy one or two aliens,” he makes another pause and Maggie gets a very bad feeling in her gut.

Her gut has saved her from one or two dicey situations in the past, you know, but she cannot simply leave now. She swallows.

“I guarantee you, though,” Rankin continues, “That these two humans will float your boat.”

The next moment, Maggie is hit by such blinding, white light, that she must gasp and squeeze her eyes shut.

“May I present to you our _very_ special guests tonight: A human police detective from Metropolis and a human FBI Agent from National City.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This is even worse than their cover being simply blown. Like this it's ripped away by a storm so to speak. Squinting against the spotlight, Maggie notices that a second spotlight is focused on Alex, who is looking just as shocked at herself. Her voice is calm and steady though, in Maggie’s ear: “Reign…Reign…listen to me,”

Por Dios, hopefully Reign will not blow her cover, too by getting Alex out of the limelight and possibly reducing a couple of Expatriates to ash, “Babe, you must concentrate. You must find the other captives,” Alex implores her, and Maggie sees how they are holding hands in the shadows below the white corona of the spotlight, “Go with Kara. Maggie and I will distract them.”

For a split second, she fears that the Worldkiller will do the exact opposite unable to withstand the urge to protect her girlfriend. Eventually, though she slips into the shadows and when Maggie turns her head, she notices that Kara is gone, too.

“Playing bait wasn’t really my intention tonight, Danvers,” Maggie rumbles.

“Mine neither,” she answers, “Can’t be helped now.”

“Get them!” Rankin suddenly roars, and Maggie and Alex jump into action:

“Where to?” Maggie asks hectically while she dashes through the thick crowd, the first Expatriates hot on her heels.

“Roof,” Alex pants, “We need to get them away from Reign and Supergirl.”

Maggie thinks this is a bad, _bad_ decision because you never escape to the roof. Never.

They need to buy time, though, and with two flying Kryptonians on their side they maybe will not break their necks tonight.

When Maggie makes a beeline to the stairs leading to the balustrade and hopefully to the roof, her heart momentarily stops beating because one of the God damn idiots started shooting. She ducks out of the way, fearing the worst. And that is exactly what happens. All hell breaks loose, people start to run for the exits, someone shoots again oh this is all _so_ going down the drain.

“J’onn!” Alex’ voice explodes in her ear, loud enough to drown out the screams around her. “The cover is blown. We have a shooting. Don’t let them get away.”

“Move, move, move!” J’onn orders.

A small, satisfied smirk blooms on Maggie’s face because these rich bastards will get the shock of their lives when they come face to face with a dozen DEO Agent’s. Then a new hail of bullets hits the staircase and Alex screams: “Stop daydreaming, Sawyer!”

“Verga!” Maggie curses, scrambling up the stairs.

She spots Alex, standing next to a hopper window that actually leads to the roof and doubles her speed. Suddenly, the redhead’s face turns ashen, she yells for Maggie to run faster. Out of nowhere two heels zip past Maggie’s head and she hears a dull thud behind her.

“Next time I’ll wear combat boots, I swear,“ Alex says disgruntled, staring wistfully at her shoes, she just used to knock an Expatriate out. Maggie steps out of her heels, too and pushes Alex through the window who frets: “I really liked that pair.”

Chill wind is making Maggie’s hair billow once they are outside. Thankfully, the roof is flat and there are a couple of possibilities to take cover, a chimney, a recently installed junction box, crates containing God knows what, looking solid enough. It’s not _much_ but better than nothing.

To their left is the front court. Dancing flashlight streams cut through the thick shadows, there is a lot of shouting and a lot of screaming and it looks like the DEO is doing their work. To their right, the warehouse they just escaped from extends for half of the roof and now they can cast a glance at what lies behind it. Maggie was right when she assumed that it was the rails and abandoned goods wagons, though there is a second, flatter building connected to the three larger warehouses. Through its many windows she sees muzzle flashes, flaring up in the dark night.

“We found them!” Kara shouts through the earpiece and Maggie jerks at the sudden noise.

“J’onn? You heard that?” Alex asks.

“Yes,” he answers, “On our way.”

Out of nowhere, a bullet flies past Maggie’s head, so close that her ear rings: “Shit!”

She spins around and watches in horror how dozens of Expatriates with the _really_ big guns climb through the various windows and onto the roof. They take cover behind a broad, brick chimney that will not withstand a hail of bullets for _too_ long.

Alex gathers her dress, reaching for something strapped to her leg with a satisfied grin: “Oh, I love leg holster.”

Shaking her head, Maggie does the same. With the first shot, Alex sends a handful of gang members over the edge of the roof because, yeah, she has the fun _alien_ gun, the one that shoots red forcefields so powerful that they once contained Reign.

“You and your alien toys,” Maggie says enviously, “So unfair.”

Alex blows imaginary smoke from the barrel, grinning wider than the Cheshire cat.

They manage to hold off most of the gang members, when suddenly something bright and red and orange explodes in the night.

“Oh, this gotta be a joke,” Alex groans.

An Infernian just climbed through one of the windows and advances on their chimney. Maggie fires a couple of times at him, but the bullets melt in a steady stream of flames erupting from his hands:

“Reign? Supergirl? We have a little problem up here,” she hisses into the earpiece. But only white noise answers her. “Maldita mierda,” Maggie rumbles.

Then she flinches from the chimney because the bricks turned hotter and hotter. Suddenly, Alex grabs her arm, shoving the gun in her hands: “Try to eliminate the other gang members. I’ll take care of the Infernian.”

“Alex, no!” Maggie shouts after her but before she can get a hold on her, Alex rounded their quickly melting cover, yelling:

“Hey, alien torch!”

Then she takes off towards the edge of the roof.

Maggie curses again but has no other choice than giving Alex cover. With the alien gun she is actually able to achieve something against the Expatriates and the second the last of them tumbles yelling from the roof, Maggie whirls around.

And her heart stops beating.

Reign will give her hell.

Reign will have her guts for garters.

Reign and Arias will skin her alive because Alex is nowhere in sight and the Infernian stands at the edge of the roof, one of his feet raised, ready to let it rush down.

The range of the gun is more than a little impressive but if she wants to go against an Infernian, Maggie better gets as close as possible before she pulls the trigger. As quietly but fast as she can, she nears the alien from behind. Don’t put your foot down, don’t put your foot down, don’t-

Maggie chants because in all likeliness he will use it to crush Alex’ hand and then the redhead will end up on the concrete flat as a red pancake and then Reign will chop Maggie into fish bait. Not good. One more foot, just one more foot. The Infernian’s thigh twitches and Maggie breaks out into a run: “Oye, cabrón!”

With a grunt the alien turns around and Maggie pulls the trigger. The red blast hits him dead center in the chest, and he goes flying over the edge with flailing arms. Maggie doesn’t stop running, though, because she doesn’t hear or see Alex and her blood freezes. She comes crashing to the side of the building, the exact spot where the Infernian just stood, screaming at the top of her lungs: “Alex!”

She hears a faint groan: “A little help?”

Three feet below her, Alex hangs from a window frame, covered in soot and dirt and her expression slightly pained.

“Gracias a Dios,” Maggie sighs in relief, about to lean over the edge to grab Alex’ wrist.

Suddenly though, a searchlight blinds her. She raises her head and spots a chopper bearing down on the net of rails behind the depot. In the dark, she can also just make out Rankin scurrying out of a window below them and vanishing between the goods wagons the next second.

“Not again you little bastard,” Maggie rumbles between gritted teeth.

Quickly, she casts a glance towards the smaller warehouse where Reign and Supergirl must be, but she still sees and hears gunfire. They are on their own. Damn it.

“Maggie!” Alex wheezes below her.

Her brain is working at a hundred miles per hour while she debates what they are supposed to do now. They cannot let Ranking get away. Again. Then she makes out a silhouette in the dark.

“Alex? Do you trust me?”

The redhead squints up at her: “Are you seriously asking that now?”

Maggie ignores her, only repeats the question. “Yes, yes, I trust you. And now help me!”

“Let go!”

“What?”

“I said let go!”

“I heard you the first time,” Alex shouts, her voice high with panic, “Are you insane?”

“Do it!”

“Damn it, Sawyer!” Alex curses and lets go.

Maggie hears how she lands will a dull thud on the roof of the truck parked at the side of the building. A little more carefully, Maggie climbs down, too, landing on her feet next to Alex, who is rubbing her back with a tight face: “That’ll bruise.”

Maggie ignores her again, grabs her arm instead, pointing with a finger towards the chopper who circles above the rails, waiting for Rankin.

“Let’s get that asshole.”

From the roof of the truck they can climb onto a long train of wagons leading to the direction where the chopper is still making circles. Crouched low, they make their way across the back yard. At some point, Maggie wordlessly nudges Alex’ arm, pointing to a shadow darting between the wagons on the ground.

“Rankin,” she mouths.

Alex nods and then they run parallel with him until the train ends at the edge of a gigantic switch platform. The chopper already waits for Rankin. They were a bit faster than the Gordanian and Alex quietly first motions to herself than to the chopper. Maggie nods and then the redhead begins to climb down the wagon as quiet as a mouse. Carefully, she walks to the edge of the wagon, her whole body tense with anticipation. The very moment Rankin steps onto the platform, which is bathed in the cold light of the chopper’s signal lights, Maggie pushes off the edge, throwing herself at him.

The impact is harsh as they crash to the ground and Maggie knows she will have bruises the size of potatoes the next day.

“The feisty human detective. It’s a small world.”

“Shut up,” she grunts, trying to wrestle him into a hold, so that she can cuff him.

“You busted my auction, Detective. That was not very nice,” Rankin hisses, his muscles bulge, and Maggie has trouble holding him still. “Someone has to amend for my financial losses.”

“You were selling children like furniture, you-“ she cannot finish her sentence because the next second something bangs violently against her head.

She gets tossed into the gravel, seeing stars for a couple of moments, struggling to stay consciousness. Groaning, she rolls onto her back and gasps when Ranking stands above her, his twisting tail casting thick shadows on the ground: “I really should have killed you on the bridge,” he says shrugging his shoulders.

Then his tail wraps around her neck, he hoists her up and she is dangling inches off the ground like a puppet. Shit. Where is Alex? What is taking her so long? She tries to scream but Rankin tightens his hold and the words die in her throat.

“With a temper like yours, I can sell you for a top-price,” Ranking cackles, making the blood freeze in Maggie’s veins.

The air in her lungs gets stale. She kicks at the ground with her bare feet, tries to pry him off but it is to no avail and her vision is becoming blurry. Her pulse is hammering in her temples while she hopes that at least Alex makes it out of here. She has to. She has a family now. Rankin’s distorted, grinning face becomes hazy more and more and it will only take a couple of more seconds before she will fall unconsciousness. Suddenly, she thinks of long, red hair and humid summer nights. Of soft, ivory skin under her own darker fingers.

“K…Kate…” she splutters.

But Kate Kane is thousands of miles away and maybe even forgot about her.

“Hey, asshole!” a voice suddenly cuts through the pounding in her head and then there is a loud, wet whack and Maggie falls to the ground.

Gagging and coughing, she greedily sucks air into her lungs. The next second, Alex is kneeling next to her, running soothing circles on her back: “It’s ok, Mags. I got him. It’s alright.”

Maggie cannot speak because her throat feels like being punished by a damn grater.

“Just breathe. It’s ok,” Alex whispers soothingly while she tries to catch her breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly sees a shadow behind Alex. Her mouth opens in a silent scream and then a furious Rankin has his tail wrapped around Alex’ chest, ripping her backwards, pinning her against the side of a wagon, ready to crush her like a bug: “You fucking humans!” he roars.

Helplessly, Maggie must watch how he tightens his hold and Alex lets out a piercing scream.

The next second, a red and blue blur crashes into Rankin, yanking him away into the shadows.

“Supergirl,” Maggie croaks in the gravel, “About damn time.”

Still lying on the ground, she sees how a second blur lands on the platform, a black blur, rushing to Alex’ side instantly.

“Alexandra? Are you alright?” Reign asks completely panicked, her hands hovering over her girlfriend’s body because she is too afraid to touch her.

Alex on the other hand throws her arms around the Worldkiller’s shoulders: “I’m ok. Just some bruises. Nothing’s broken.”

Then Maggie sees how she tightens her hold, to keep Reign from beating the living daylights out of Rankin. She just got herself up enough to rest against the wheel of a wagon when Kara returns: “Hey, Maggie. Are you ok?”

As an answer, she rasps: “You got him?” Kara nods. “Good.”

The next moment, they hear a muffled surprised yelp and turn their heads. Alex has her hands on Reign’s face, kissing her as if there were no tomorrow. After the initial surprise, Reign kisses back just as eagerly and both Kara and Maggie cannot help making a face.

“Where’s the kid?”

“With Lena.” Maggie laughs which quickly turns into a cough: “They are so gonna bang tonight.”

“Ugh. She’s my sister. Spare me the images.”

Maggie laughs again.

 

* * *

 

 

The receptionist wishes her a pleasant Sunday when Maggie checks-out of the hotel the next day.

Her throat is still sore and the bruises blooming all over her body all bigger than potatoes. But they made it and the satisfaction about getting Rankin behind bars makes up for all of it. After last night, they were all eager to get home, to let J’onn or other Agents handle the paperwork. Maggie even refused to be treated in the med bay so desperate to just _sleep_. Today, she will return to Metropolis with her colleagues.

Rankin is sitting in a pretty cell deep, deep in the intestines of the DEO together with half of his gang and if he ever wants to take a sunbath again, her better provides some information about the boss of the Expatriates. Maggie and Alex almost fell asleep on the way to the DEO last night and didn’t properly say good-bye to each other. Before she will set out home in two hours, she wants to see Alex one last time.

She still doesn’t have her current number and calls Kara. In the background she can hear labored breathing, a whine maybe and when Kara fobs her off gently, Maggie’s cheeks grow hot. It takes half an hour before she receives a text from little Danvers with Alex’ contact. Crossing her fingers, Maggie dials. She could handle interrupting Kara and Lena during sex but Alex and Arias. Por Dios, no.

There is commotion in the background, too, when Alex picks up but of a wholly other kind. They agree on Maggie being there in twenty minutes.

She tells the driver to wait for her before she climbs out of the taxi. Alex already waits for her at the edge of the small park. In the background, Maggie sees a bunch of teenagers running across a football field. The day was bright and beautiful, and the temperature rose above seventy degrees maybe for the last time this year. Her heart grows heavy thinking about the fact that she must return to rain and temperatures barely above fifty anymore. She snorts when she notices Alex’ outfit. She’s in cargo shorts, Converse and a simple black and blue, vertically striped T-shirt. Incidentally those are the same colors as on the tricots of one of the soccer teams.

“You look like such a soccer mom.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Underneath the striped shirt, Maggie can make out the fixed dressing for Alex’ ribs.

“Was Arias pissed?”

Alex rolls her eyes, laughing lightheartedly: “She roasted us for hours.”

Maggie grins.

A sudden silence falls between them, one that is not per se uncomfortable, more like a silent agreement that they came a long way in the past week. She clears her throat motioning towards the taxi: “I must catch my flight. Just wanted to say good-bye.”

Alex nods, her eyes soft, her smile even softer: “It was really good seeing you again.”

Maggie tilts her head, forcing herself to _not_ get sentimental right now: “Likewise.”

Alex casts a quick glance over her shoulder, to her girlfriend and daughter before she says: “There is someone out there for you. I know it.”

Maggie shrugs because she might be a bit embarrassed: “Maybe.”

“You will find each other,” Alex says confidently and reassuringly, and Maggie really, really wants to believe her. Then the cab honks.

“See you around, Danvers.”

She smiles brightly at Maggie, opens her arms wide and she lets herself fall into the embrace: “See you around, Sawyer.”

.

That evening, Maggie paces up and down in front of her kitchen counter. The label on her beer is peeled off half-way and the phone lying on top of the counter makes her more nervous with each passing second. Then she comes to an abrupt halt, shakes herself and takes a deep breath. Alex was right. There is someone out there for her. And she has a pretty good idea who it is. In a flash, she grabs the phone and dials. She wants what Alex has with Samantha. Minus the child but you get it. Her heart hammers in her chest and her palms get sweaty as she waits for the other person to pick up. The second Maggie thinks about hanging up, there is a click in the line: “ _Hello?_ ”

Her grip tightens, her mouth gets dry. She musters up all her courage:

“Hey, Kate.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always I hope that you enjoyed this little story :)  
> It would mean a lot to me, to hear something from you in the comment section: Drop me a comment, some Kudos or a smiley, so I know if people are interested in the series.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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